


Music Is Good For The Soul - A Christmas Season Story

by virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Comedy, Curtain Fic, Family Feels, Fluff, Holiday, M/M, Romance, Sam/Dean - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform, au not brothers, rom com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22192255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: Dean's daughter's music teacher is silly, clumsy, and often puts his foot in his mouth.  But there’s something about Sam that draws father and daughter to him as the class prepares for the school’s Christmas Holiday Show.  Lighthearted rom com.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/magic_pix/49261333437/in/dateposted-public/)

Grabbing two boxes off the shelves, Dean held up the two types of mac and cheese. “Okay, Keira, here we go. Spongebob?” He shook the box. “Or Mutant Turtles?” He shook the second box. “I’ll put in extra cheese, ‘cause cheese is awesome, right?” He offered the boxes to his daughter, hoping she’d voice her choice. Instead of choosing, her gaze dropped away. 

Sighing, Dean dropped the Spongebob box in the grocery basket he pushed. “Okay, so mac and cheese. How about hot dogs? And some strawberries maybe? We could get some cake to go with it. Chocolate cake, or pound cake--”

His adopted daughter’s attention was elsewhere, but that was not unusual. Not that Dean could blame her after what she’d gone through. Keira let go of his hand and suddenly raced down the aisle, catching him completely off guard. 

Sam had been bent over to read the food label on a can of corn when a pint-sized person came up from behind him and caught one of his legs in a tight embrace. He straightened so fast, he grazed his forehead on the upper shelf. Wincing, he twisted around, only to find the familiar little girl, who was ordinarily shy and quiet, still hanging onto his leg. 

His cheeks burned at his predicament. “Ah, hi, kiddo. Where’s your mom?” he asked, one hand on her head as he looked around to see who would claim her, and hopefully rescue him. 

Dean ran after his daughter but when she threw herself around the leg of a young man even taller than himself, Dean came to a standstill and stood there dumbly, shocked. It wasn’t until the guy looked up, searching for Keira’s mom, that Dean managed to say anything. “Keira, let go of the guy. C’mon. Hanging onto strangers isn’t an awesome idea.” Dean held out his hand to her but looked up into the hazel eyes of the guy. “Sorry, this isn’t like her,” he said, feeling awkward.

Sam started to laugh in commiseration but choked on his laugh when he saw the ruggedly handsome man in front of him. Almost a decade might have passed, but Sam could never forget the sixteen-year-old who had rescued him from the wendigo’s cave. “Matt?” he said, “ah, it’s fine. I’m not a stranger, although Keira doesn’t usually cling like this.” Chuckling, he tried to free himself.

Dean lifted an eyebrow and rubbed his jaw. “It’s Dean, actually. I’m good with faces but you have me, ah, at a disadvantage. When did we meet?” He knelt down. “C’mon, Sugar. Why don’t you wrap your arms around my neck instead, okay?” He tugged gently on Keira’s arm but glanced up at the guy, trying to place him. And if Keira knew him--he wondered suddenly whether this guy could be family to Keira. His heart constricted. Why else would she be clinging to him like that? 

“Want Mr. C to throw me,” she answered, refusing to let go.

“Dean. Ah, sorry, my mistake.” Sam could have sworn this was Matt Osbourne. He blinked, but still, all he could see was Matt. But what reason would the guy have to lie to him? His mind clouded with doubt, but he couldn’t very well challenge the guy on his name. 

“Here,” Sam said, putting his hands on Keira’s hips. “I’ll throw you up if your dad says it’s okay.” Glancing at Dean, he added, “I’m the new music teacher at White Elementary.” 

“New music teacher. Yeah, I remember the letter I got--Mr. Campbell, right?” Dean said. He wanted to tell Keira ‘no,’ that a store wasn’t the place to be thrown up in the air, but when was the last time she’d asked for interaction with someone? Dean couldn’t remember. “Sure, you can do what it is she wants, I guess.” He ran his fingers through his hair, at something of a loss, thinking again how much he really sucked as a dad.

The guy looked stressed. “It’s fine,” Sam reassured him, then lifted the six-year-old high up into the air. He put one big palm under her, so she was sitting on his palm, and counted as he bounced her up and down. “One, two, three.” On three, he tossed her up about a foot, catching her on his palm and tossing her up again. He held his other hand up to catch her if she lost her balance. 

Keira giggled and laughed each time she bounced up and down. “More, Mr. C,” she asked, when he slowed down.

“I think your daddy wants to finish his shopping and I’ve got to do the same,” Sam said, giving her a couple more bounces before lowering her to the ground. “I made the mistake of promising to bounce every kid who was good in class. They were all good,” he groaned.

“That’s got to be rough on the arm and shoulder. You might want to rethink that promise,” Dean said, wrapping an arm around his daughter’s waist and lifting her up to sit on his hip. “What do you say to Mr. C for what he did?” he asked her, giving her a smile and nod of encouragement.

She curled her fingers into her dad’s shirt and leaned her head against his jaw, but looked towards her teacher and spoke softly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam tapped the tip of her nose. “And maybe tomorrow, you’ll sing nice and loud for me.”

She buried her face in her dad’s neck.

“Yeah, that’s probably not happening,” Dean said, patting her back gently, then giving her a hug. “Course if you manage it, you need to record it for me. She doesn’t like to draw attention to herself. Unless, apparently, you’re bouncing her like a ball in the middle of a grocery store.” Dean gave a soft laugh and shook his head. “Just another note in her ever-growing journal of how to drive me crazy.”

Sam grinned. “We’ll get there. She’s a great kid. Makes a great teacher’s helper,” he said, nodding at the child still hiding under her father’s chin. “I guess I better… ah, before I go, do you have a brother, or cousin or anyone named Matt?” He had to try again. His gut told him he was right, but memories faded.

“I’m surprised--glad, but surprised she helps,” Dean said. “I know she has trouble focusing and listening at times. Counselor said to be patient, that she’ll come out of her shell when she’s ready.” Dean was swaying slightly, subconsciously trying to soothe her. “And no, no family. My dad died a couple years back, my mom when I was a little younger than Keira. No brothers or sisters. Both my parents were only children, too. I just have that sort of face I guess. Easily mistaken for someone else.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug.

Sam couldn’t bring himself to agree, but saw no hint that the guy was hiding anything. Doubt started to eat at him. Giving a non-committal nod, he said, “It’s good to meet you. Our class will be having an open house at the end of the week. I hope you and Mrs. Winchester will drop by.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Dean said. “But it’s just me and the squirt. No Misses. Nice to meet you, too, Mr. C,” he said with a wink. “Okay, Keira, unless you speak up, we’re having hot dogs with the mac and cheese. And maybe tomatoes and bacon. Mmm, nothing like bacon, yeah?” he said, giving the teacher a final smile before heading up the aisle. 

* * *

“Keira, where you at, Squirt?” Dean called out, walking to the sink to wash the grease off his hands. “Meet me in the kitchen,” he yelled over the running water as he soaped his hands with the Lava soap.

Keira climbed off her bed and looked inside the open toy box. She pushed some of the toys aside until she found the ball she was looking for. Then she went to the living room. Hearing the water running, she headed for the kitchen and waited patiently for her dad.

Drying off his hands, he twisted his head, ready to shout for his daughter again when he saw her standing there with her ball. “I swear I’m going to put you in tap dance shoes so I can hear you when you walk,” Dean said. 

He scooped her up in his arms. “We can’t go to the park tonight. Dad has to go out and make some money. I have to dig up some water lines so a family has water. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. There’s a carnival coming and with the money I make tonight, I’m thinking maybe we can afford to go ride the rides, and play some games, and eat cotton candy. I’ll try anyhow, okay, Squirt?” He looked into her face, hoping she understood. He remembered how many broken promises his own dad had made and he didn’t want to do that to her.

She gave a little whine, her eyes tearing up. “Ball,” she whispered, looking down as soon as the word slipped past her lips. Her arm was still curled tightly around the ball she carried.

Feeling his throat close up a little, he kissed her on the head. “Tell you what, we’ll play ball in the back yard for fifteen minutes, okay? Then I have to take you to Cindy’s so I can go to work. Okay, sweety?” he said, hoping the instant gratification might win out over the disappointment of not going to the park.

“‘Tay,” she answered, her expression instantly going from ‘on-the-verge-of-crying’ to thrilled. Catching the side of his face with her hand, she kissed the top of his head just like he’d done to her, but wrinkling her nose at the ticklish hair.

He gave a soft laugh, relieved he was forgiven. Once they got out in the yard, he held up his phone. “I’m setting the alarm. When it beeps, we have to stop.” He set the alarm for fifteen minutes. Compromises were good, he told himself, and told himself he wasn’t spoiling her. He had promised to take her to the park and at best, this was a consolation prize.

***

Getting the kids to stand in the right place on the three-level riser was like trying to herd cats. Knowing this from experience, Sam tried something new. He wore a bright red Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer nose, that lit up. It seemed to keep the kids’ attention on him, and even distracted them from doing things like changing places to stand next to friends, or wanting to play with toys on the other side of the classroom. 

He had the tall kids on the top stair, and the shortest ones on the bottom. He was about to get them to go through the songs again, but could see that despite his ‘nose prop,’ they were starting to get antsy. He needed to do something before he lost them. “You want to see me gallop again, don’t you?” he said with an exaggerated sigh. 

The high-pitched, ear-splitting screams of “yes” had Sam prancing across the room with his hands together and moving up and down, looking more like a kangaroo than any reindeer. “Like this?” he asked.

“Faster!” one of the kids yelled. 

“Wiseguy.” Sam gave another exaggerated sigh. “Alright, but then we’re back to practicing.” He pranced back to the middle of the room, then hippity-hopped backwards a little, mostly because the kids were laughing harder than he’d ever heard them laugh.

Dean cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to see the head reindeer or horse, or something like that?” He was unsurprised when Keira was immediately jumping off the risers and racing across to him.

Sam whipped around and seeing Dean, felt himself blanch. Of course his nose blinked and reminded him what he must look like. And if there was anyone he did not want to appear silly in front of, it was Keira’s handsome dad. Of course, the guy probably wasn’t into men, so it didn’t matter what Sam looked like, not really. 

Pulling the nose off, he gave a self-conscious laugh, glad that Keira was drawing some of the attention off him. “Ah, we were just… ah, are you here to visit?” Where the hell had his brain cells gone?

Dean had scooped his daughter up and was holding her on his hip. He laughed and shook his head. “School hired me to make some cabinets and cubby holes for you. I’ve got your sketches but need to see where you want them, take some measurements, and see where the studs are. I was in the area, so thought I’d drop in and find out when would be a good time for that. Wasn’t sure when you had lunch or a break, or when the end of the day was for you.”

Sam blinked at the unexpected news. He was going have Dean Winchester in his class for a few days. As if he hadn’t been having way too many dreams about Matt since the day he’d run into Dean. “Of course. Right over here.” He walked to one side of the room and pointed to the area next to the doorway. “Right here would be great. And feel free to make modifications. I just drew up my wish list. The cubbies are the most important thing.” 

“Like you’ll be able to get the kids to pay attention to you if I’m puttering around over here?” Dean asked dubiously. “I can come back if you’ve got a break from students during the day, or when class lets out. I don’t want to be a distraction.”

As if the man wouldn’t be distracting even if he stood stock still or played dead! “Good point. Lunchtime is in half an hour.”

Dean glanced at his watch. “Half hour works for me. If it’s okay, I’ll sit at this table and look at your sketches and see if I need to make any changes. That way I’m not moving around. I’ll take measurements once the kids have left and we can talk. Or I can come back in thirty if you want?” He gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek and set her down so she could return to class. 

“Works for me. Just, you know, don’t mind my reindeer impressions.” Like he wasn’t going to feel self-conscious now. “Come on, Keira.” He put his hand out. Though she walked to him, she didn’t give him her hand, so he lightly cupped the back of her head as they walked to the risers.

As he helped her back to her place, and re-positioned a few of the kids who had moved, someone reminded him he’d taken his nose off. “Nothing gets by you, does it?” He put the nose on and was rewarded by the happy smiles. 

Stepping back, he nodded to the volunteer sitting at the piano. 

“Okay kids, hold up your bells when I lift mine up, just watch my hands,” he said. “Two, three, four… dashing through the snow…” As he sang with the kids, he made exaggerated motions with his body that they emulated. “Now…” he raised the sleigh bells and shook them, “jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way… good. Andy, higher, yeah…”

As the kids sang, he went up to them, sometimes turning a kid, sometimes showing them the rhythm and praising them. “Okay, now back row, bells!” Suddenly, the bells drowned out the sound of the chimes and the piano. One of the kids put her hands over her ears.

Sam crossed his hands and sliced them through the air. The pianist stopped playing and most of the kids stopped singing. “That was great. We’ll practice the bells a little more, maybe learn to go a little easier on them. But you’re really getting it. Good job. I mean, gooood job,” he pranced in place, even though a hot flush crawled over him at the thought of what he must look like to Dean.

“Okay, we’ll practice some more after lunch. Be careful as you come down the stairs, and if Mr. Brock is already outside, I’ll let you out early so you can have a little extra time for lunch. Cause you did so well.” He pulled the nose off and headed to the door amid a chorus of ear-busting shouts of glee.

Seeing the supervisor was already on the playground, he exchanged a few words with him, then held the door open. “Remember the rules?”

“No pushing. Share the equipment. Be kind,” the kids answered as they scrambled past him towards the cafeteria across the playground. 

“Come on Keira, get your lunch. If you want to bring it in here, just let Mr. Brock know, okay?” 

She looked over at her dad, then dropped the sleigh bells into the collection box. 

“Up to you, Squirt,” Dean said, winking at her. “I’m going to be working, so if you want to sit with your friends and play outside, go ahead.” He wasn’t really sure if she had friends to eat lunch with but hoped she did.

She headed for the door and looked up.

“First graders should be out in about ten minutes,” Sam told her, giving her a smile and letting her out. “It’ll be interesting to see if she comes back,” he said, heading for Dean. “There’s a first grader who’s taken her under her wing.”

“Yeah? Thank God,” he said, exhaling with relief. “She doesn’t exactly give me good updates about her school day. I mostly get nods, head shakes, pouts, and giggles. Which is an improvement from spring, so I can’t complain I guess.” He pointed to the sketches spread out on the table. “So, for the cubbyholes, do you handle all grades and need them for all grades, or do you just deal with the little ones? I need to know how tall to stack them and what sorts of things will go into them.”

“I’ve got Kindergarten through third grade. The kids need to store things like jackets, oversized backpacks or book-bags, and sometimes lunch boxes. Speaking of, you want half a sandwich? The kids made me eat cereal with them, and I seriously don’t need the extra carbs. It’s organic tuna, light on mayo, and it tastes amazing. For a sandwich.”

Dean gave Sam’s muscular physique a lingering once-over. “You don’t look like you need to worry about carbs, or desserts for that matter,” he said but gave a shrug. “Hate to see organic fish die for nothing. Sure, I’ll take half.” He rarely ate lunch, or when he did, it was mostly ramen noodles, beans, or peanut butter and jelly. Money was tight and he wanted to save the money for meat for dinners with Keira. It was easiest to just skip lunch and not think about it too much. He’d done it plenty of times as a kid. He didn’t figure Keira would raise any questions until she was a lot older and by then, maybe he’d have more money coming in and it wouldn’t be an issue. 

Sam gave the guy a double-take. He didn’t know whether it was okay to laugh, or the guy was into animal rights or something. “If you’d rather go all veggies, I’m sure I could whip up a shake for you.”

Dean made a face. “Uh, thanks, but I’ll pass on a veggie shake. I might make my daughter eat vegetables, and eat a token share to convince her it’s good, but I’d rather have all meat, all the time. Burgers, steaks, bar-b-que. And my favorite type of fruit is pie. My idea of good veggies is what goes on my burger as garnish,” he said, laughing. “The things I do for that kid. Like boil potatoes instead of deep frying them like potatoes should be.” Dean pulled out his measuring tape and started jotting down measurements.

Chuckling, Sam headed for the footlocker sized refrigerator near his desk. “I tell my kids they are what they eat, but I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. Keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.” Rummaging through the drawers, he pulled a paper plate out of the party supplies. Then he put half of his sandwich on the plate. “I’m guessing Coke over water?”

“Depends how much they charge for a Coke at this place, cause two bucks for a soda is highway robbery, but I’m sometimes accused of being old-fashioned, which I just blame my dad for,” Dean said. He glanced back at the teacher. “Your kids? As in you have munchkins of your own?”

“No, I meant the kids at school. I may be the music teacher, but I try to get some life lessons in there. You know, like half an apple before they get to the cheerios.” He laughed. It took him a couple minutes to run out and get a soda for Dean from the vending machine in the teacher’s lounge.

Taking the drink, a bag of chips and the plate, he set them down on the table closest to Dean. “So, you’re a carpenter?” he asked, taking a bite of his own sandwich. 

“Handyman, general car repair--like brakes, oil changes, batteries, belts and stuff, and I specialize in tracking down parts for older cars.” Dean made some notes on the sketches then joined Sam for lunch. He pulled out his wallet and handed him a double-sided card. “Phoenix Handyman Services, Phoenix Car Repair, and Phoenix Car Part Industries. Making the old new again. I do some minor car body repairs too, like fixing scratches, small dents, scrapes, that sort of thing.” He settled down in the chair. “What do I owe you for the Coke and chips?”

“Jack of all trades with three businesses. Must keep you busy.” He couldn’t help staring into Dean’s startling green eyes, or noticing the thrill that ran through him. It was the same thrill that lanced through him whenever he’d thought about Matt. “We’re good. It’s just Coke and chips.” Twisting the cap off his water bottle, he took a drink. “You from around here, originally?” he asked, out of much more than idle curiosity.

“Nah. From Kansas, originally. Spent some time in South Dakota and Minnesota through the years, too. Got a bit of the traveling bug, so I’ve been a lot of places. My car parts business is on the internet. There are a lot of old junkyards that don’t really know what they’ve got out in the field, so sometimes you have to actually go out and hunt for stuff, dodging the wasp nests, snakes, spiders and scorpions along the way. I’ve got some partners in that business. My office assistant monitors all the requests, makes calls and stuff, then also a friend with a junkyard who can wheel and deal sometimes. My babysitter slash office assistant’s oldest kid sometimes helps out, too. What about you? Where are you from originally?” Dean asked, watching the guy. He could tell the man was more observant than he let on, but he guessed a teacher probably had to be to keep kids in line.

“Te… Colorado, originally. Texas most recently,” he answered. He rarely told anyone he was from Colorado, wanting to wipe that place and that time period from his memory. Except for one little piece of it. The part when his knight in shining armor appeared. Matt. He tensed. If this was Matt, if he’d taken on a new name and persona for personal reasons, Sam had given him an opening to cop to his real identity. Sam held his breath, unable to shake the sliver of hope that clung to him no matter how often he’d told himself that the guy was probably telling the truth, and this was all in Sam’s mind. 

“Colorado is nice, beautiful scenery, but there are some pretty dangerous animals out in the mountains. Texas has its charms, depending where you’re at,” Dean said with a nod. There wasn’t any of the lower 48 states he hadn’t been in at some point. He took a bite of the sandwich and sat back, surprised. “Damn. It’s good for tuna,” he said with a full mouth. 

The mention of dangerous animals had Sam’s attention, but he realized he was just looking for something. Anything that would confirm Dean had been the one to save him from the wendigo. “Secret is to use more lemon juice and less mayo. Also some chopped celery and onion,” he said with a grin. It was nice getting a compliment from a handsome man, even if the compliment didn’t come from Matt. “I hope I didn’t mess up the experience for you by mentioning veggies.” 

“Onions aren’t vegetables. They’re one of the primary food groups,” Dean said, shaking a finger at Sam. “Even my Keira knows that. Celery is just crunchy water. Now for steak, celery salt is a must, so they get points for that. And stuffing. No good stuffing exists without onion and celery. I usually do vinegar and onion on my tuna sandwiches. Never tried lemon juice. So, thumbs up.” He gave an approving nod.

“You might have a point.” He couldn’t help watching Dean eat. He ate like he was enjoying every bite. Like he was in a food commercial tempting viewers to reach for some of what he was having. 

Sensing he’d been caught watching the guy, Sam pulled his gaze away. “How long will the work take? I’m just thinking, should we wait until after the open house so we don’t have construction materials laying around?”

“Part of the bid I made for the work was that I would build it in sections and then install all at once. It’ll have two braces in the back, running horizontally along the studs, then the units, in sets of three, get attached to the braces and each other. The hooks for the coats will be on the wall. Two of the concerns was floor cleaning and expandability, so I’m setting them up to be easily removable if you know the trick. That means after they’re built, I come in and install the back supports, then, bam, I bring the units in and install. Most of the building work takes place in my garage. No way to have them ready for the open house this weekend. They’ll be done in two weeks, unless the school wants to pay me for a rush job which’ll double the price.” Finishing his half sandwich, Dean started on the chips and took a long drink of the Coke. “So what all is going on for the open house? I’ve never really been to one before. Do I bring anything? Dress up? Am I expected to talk to teachers? Or are those really stupid questions?”

“You haven’t? I was told the regular classes have already had a couple open houses. The arts, sports and music classes tend to get ignored by the parents during regular open houses. They tend to hang out in their kids’ main classroom and focus on math, English and history, so we decided to have a separate event.” He grabbed his water bottle, twisting the top off. “It’s real casual, though some of the kids like to be a bit dressed up. We’ll have some snacks out and it’s your opportunity to ask questions. The art teacher has had some complaints about too many art projects and it might be my fault,” he laughed. “I asked her to give some extra assignments so I can put up the artwork in here too. It’s a little hard to display music, you know?”

“Nah. Use pictures of them singing, or dancing or have them do drawings of how they feel when they sing a song or pictures of what they’re singing about.” Seeing the look Sam gave him, Dean smirked. “Believe me, when you’ve got a kid who doesn’t talk much, you get creative about communication. I painted one of her walls with that dry erase paint stuff. That’s so she can put anything she wants on that wall and erase it when she wants something different. And believe me, I check it every night after she’s asleep.”

“That’s a great idea,” he Sam nodded. He looked down at the table for a moment, then back at Dean. “Was she always this quiet? Her records don’t say anything.” Seeing emotions flicker across Dean’s face, he lifted a hand. “I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay. She’s…” Dean glanced toward the doorway, making certain she wasn’t nearby. “I adopted her. She lost her family and I was the only one who she’d trust. So yeah, since the death of her family, she’s been quiet. The counselor knows, in case something triggers her, but I figured there was no sense in putting her past in her records. I’m her dad, now, and I’m going to help her get past what happened. Hell of a learning curve though.” Dean shook his head.

Sam’s eyes widened. “For what it’s worth, from what I’ve seen, you’re doing a helluva job. She may be quiet, but she’s happy. Her eyes light up for you.” He wanted to ask more, but it wasn’t his place. 

“Thanks. God knows I’ve read enough books about being a good parent to fill a bookcase. I just want to give her a good life so I’m trying my best and hoping I don’t screw her up.” He looked toward the doorway again. “Never really figured being a dad would be one of my accomplishments. Now? Wouldn’t give her up for anything.” 

*

Dean had worked out a deal with the local motel. He’d agreed to be on call for plumbing emergencies after hours for a normal rate instead of double-time, and he tossed in some free handyman services, and in return, he and Keira got to use the pool. It had worked out pretty well so far. He’d typically get called out about once a month for minor things like a stopped-up toilet or leaky pipe. If it turned out to be a big job, he’d do an emergency fix until the morning. He also got little carpentry repair jobs or repaints from the owner because he liked Dean’s work and his prices. Dean tried to take Keira to the pool at least once a week. She’d play in the kiddy pool for a bit, then Dean would go sit in the small hot tub for a few, letting her splash in the kiddy pool a bit longer. After that he’d take Keira into the bigger pool and help her learn to swim and to go longer distances. He was so proud of her the first time she made it from one end of the pool to the other without tiring out and having Dean ‘rescue’ her. He still stayed by her because she was far too short to touch bottom and wasn’t a confident swimmer. This evening, she’d swum a length and a half of the bigger pool, but wasn’t ready to go home yet, so he put her back in the kiddy pool and sat with his feet in the pool, tossing a ping pong ball back and forth with her.

She missed the ball this time, her gaze focusing behind Dean. He twisted around and saw that past the gates, the walkway was getting flooded with water that was seeping out from under a motel room door. The door burst open, swinging and hitting the wall.

“Mr. C!” Keira whispered, smiling, then giggling when Sam stepped out.

Sure enough, it was Mr. C, soaked from head to foot, wiping his face free of dripping water and looking a little panicked as water continued to pour out the door.

Dean grabbed Keira from the pool, picked up her towel and his own and headed through the gate. Trying to keep from laughing, he wordlessly put Keira in Sam’s surprised arms and went inside the room, opening the cabinet under the sink and turning off the water valve to the spewing faucet on the sink.

“You’re wet,” Sam automatically told a still giggling and squirming Keira, as if he hadn’t already been soaked and she was at fault for drenching him some more. Stepping into the doorway, he made a face at the flooded floor, then met Dean’s gaze. “So _that’s_ where they hid the turn off valve. I tried to fix the da… darned thing and, kabluey” he spread the fingers of one hand to emulate a shower spray.

Dean left the cabinet doors open and stood up. “Don’t sweat it. You’re not the first person annoyed with the dripping faucets. I’ve replaced about a quarter of the faucets in this place already. They all need it, but the owners aren’t ready to pony up the money yet.”

“No kidding. I got tired of asking them to fix it, now I… yeah, note to self, don’t try to fix things,” Sam huffed.

“I’ll go get the wet-vac for the floor. You babysit. Keira, Mr. C is going to watch you for a few. I’ll be right back, okay, Squirt?” He brushed a hand over her cheek so she looked at him, making sure she was okay with it. Seeing she was, he looked up at Sam and gave a wave to the pool. “If you want, you can stick her back in the kiddy pool, but eyes on her full time if you do. Her ping pong ball is still in there, too.”

Sam gave a grateful nod as Dean walked out. “That’s twice he’s caught me being silly, once with the red nose, and now this!” It was three, if he counted getting shocked by the sudden hug at the grocery store. “You’re not the evil mind planning this, are you?”

She started to laugh.

“Yeah, cause, not I’m not making a good impression as teacher, here. Or a human being. A grown up.”

The more he spoke, the more she laughed, which had him making even more outrageous statements as he dried her up and set her down on the couch, with a folded towel under her. “So, you don’t think he’ll come back in when I’m sloshing through the water to get you a drink, do ya?”

Her laughter had him doing just that, with some exaggerated steps after he confirmed her dad wasn’t back. 

Dean ignored the couple strange looks he got as he carried the wet vac he had grabbed from the motel while wearing only his swimming trunks. He gave waves or smiles to the couple people he knew who stayed at the motel as long term residents. Walking through the motel room door, he stopped when he saw Sam pretending to tug his jeans higher like a clown might, then taking exaggerated steps across the wet carpet, an apple and lunch-pack size bag of goldfish crackers in his hands. His daughter was practically squealing with laughter. He smiled, but also felt a twinge of jealousy. He had no idea how to be that silly with his little girl. The best he’d been able to do was make silly voices and faces when he read to her.

“You’re really good with kids. When you have a family, the kids are going to be really lucky to have you as a dad,” Dean said, setting down the wet vac and unwrapping the cord.

“Oh, Jeez!” The snacks almost fell from Sam’s hand as he whipped his head around.

“Mr. C is sloshing,” Keira said, between laughs that seemed to take her breath away.

Not making a big deal over the rare full sentence that came from the little girl, Sam simply denied it. “I am _not_ sloshing. Your dad, with the sneaky, quiet, spy feet is sloshing.”

“Daddy slossing,” she agreed, reaching up for the snack.

“That’s right.” Sam gave her the snacks and flipped the TV on to some cartoons. Heading back to the kitchenette, he leaned on the counter. “I guess I’m lucky you were here. Sorry about dragging you out of the pool.” And for staring. Stop staring. He managed to drag his eyes away, but the image of sun kissed skin, rippling muscles, and a broad chest that tapered to a perfect six pack and narrowed waist, was permanently burned into Sam’s mind. 

“We were about done, anyhow. She’s getting pretty tuckered out--she swam a length and a half of the big pool today!” He plugged in the vacuum and glanced over at his daughter, unable to hide his pride. After hooking up the hoses he gave Sam a smile, noticing the way Sam’s eyes had been drifting over him. “I’m the one they probably would’ve called anyhow. I think Frank’s already gone home for the day.”

He flicked the toggle switch and began sweeping up the water.

“I’ll keep you on speed dial, then. Cause Frank… yeah, I think he’s intentionally hard of hearing.” It was difficult speaking over the sound of the vacuum, and Sam found himself watching Dean again. When Dean turned his back and lifted his arm as he flicked the wire over, his action revealed some scars on his side. A frown formed between Sam’s brows, but when Dean turned again he quickly looked up. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Beer?” Dean asked hopefully. “If not, iced tea is fine.”

Giving a nod, Sam headed for the fridge, one wet shoe squeaking on the linoleum. Cringing at the sound, he took longer steps and got two beers from the fridge. “I think it’s my cue to change.”

“Squeaky Mr. C!” Keira laughed, covering her ears and making a face.

Dean looked up and shook his head. “Okay, you have to tell me your magic. I can’t get her to laugh that much in any one evening. I’m going to have to recruit you as my mentor or babysitter, or something. But I draw the line at blinking shiny noses. That’s just, yeah--no.” He turned off the vacuum and popped the lid, dumping the liquid outside the door, into the gravel landscaping. Putting the lid back on, he studied the floor to see what areas he needed to be revisit with the vacuum.

“I’ll tell you my secret, then.” Sam could feel Keira staring at them. He moved closer to Dean to whisper in his ear. Bad idea, that just had his pulse kicking up a notch. He cleared his throat and whispered in a voice that he knew she could hear. “Be clumsy, and then pretend it was on purpose or something.”

As he pulled away, he heard Keira’s snort of laughter. Giving her a look, he headed inside, tripping into the small hallway and giving a shout, before firmly closing the door behind him.

Keira shoved some more fish crackers into her mouth, and scrambled off the couch. Heading to her dad, she tugged on his shorts. Her expression was one of pure sneakiness. “Push Mr. C in pool. Squish squish.”

Dean’s eyes widened. His innocent little girl-- ”What if squishy Mr. C can’t swim, Squirt? If we’re ever all three at the pool, in our swimsuits, maybe I’ll pretend to try to push him in, but I have to make sure it’s really okay with him before I do. Otherwise, it’s not very nice, is it?”

“You can save him,” she said, pointing at her daddy. 

Dean wrapped his arms around her and tugged her close, laughing softly. “I still think we should make sure he can at least swim or he might be mad at me for pushing him in. We don’t want him mad at us, do we?”

She shrugged in his arms, thinking it over.

Sam walked back in. “Oh good, it’s safe. No flood waters to slip in.” Finding them in the kitchenette, he gave Dean a questioning look. “She tired?” He’d hoped they’d stay a while but Dean had said she’d be ready for sleep soon. 

“No, she’s being full of mischief. Though I’m sure after I get her dinner, she’ll be out cold. I don’t have my truck with me at the moment. Is it okay if I replace the faucet tomorrow?” he asked. He really didn’t want to finish up sweeping, take Keira home for dinner and a quick bath, only to have to bring her back out while he changed out a faucet that could wait until morning.

“Of course.” Reaching for his beer, Sam took a sip. “There’s a small burger joint around the corner. You guys want to grab a bite? My way of thanking you for saving me from big, bad Frank,” he added for Keira’s sake. It wasn’t a date. He probably had a girlfriend anyway. 

“Sure. Could Keira maybe rinse off in your shower real fast? Just enough to get the chlorine off her?” Dean asked. He figured if Keira rinsed off now, then when they got home, he wouldn’t have to worry about giving her a bath and could put her to bed. Not that he really figured she’d still be awake by the time they got home. At least she didn’t tend to get cranky when she’d had a big day. She just slowly faded until she was asleep.

“Both of you are welcome to use the shower. I’ll get towels. Your clothes, by the pool? I can grab them,” he offered, heading inside to put towels on the counter next to the bathroom sink. 

“Yeah in the--” Dean cleared his throat, “ah, My Little Pony bags. Thanks.”

“I didn’t take you as a My Little Pony fan,” Sam smirked, while Keira gave a decided giggle.

“They were out of Batman bags,” Dean answered defensively. “Cause Batman is--” He looked at Keira.

“--awesome!” She finished happily. “Like Daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” he said proudly. “Squirt, into the bathroom,” he said, unplugging the vacuum and wrapping the cord up. “I think I got most of it up, but I can tell the management you need new carpet, cause really, you do.” 

“It’s alright, I’m not planning to be here much longer,” Sam answered, watching Dean follow Keira into the bathroom and hearing the shower go on. Tugging the door only part way shut behind him, Sam headed down a walkway. A passing neighbor’s breezy, “Hello, Sunshine,” took him by surprise. He turned around about to ask what she meant when he realized he’d been grinning for no reason. Or maybe it was with good reason, because yeah, he had an absolute hunk and one of his favorite students at his place. Rolling his eyes at himself, he sped up, holding the pool gate open for a family who was leaving.

A few minutes later, he was back. Announcing himself, he dropped the bag of clothes in the hallway for Dean. Then he went to set up a couple fans and aimed them at the wet carpet. Between that and putting on the heater, he hoped the carpet would dry out and he’d be spared the bad smell. 

*

As soon as Keira was done, promising she’d rinsed off _everywhere,_ Dean had her step out, got her dried off and dressed, then stepped in for a quick rinse himself. It was weird showering in a motel. Or maybe it was weird that he hadn’t showered in a motel in over three weeks, when it used to be all he knew. He got out and got dressed in his black t-shirt and jeans, and pulled on his boots. After squeezing both their suits out, he wrapped them in the towels he’d brought and stuffed them into the bag.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Dean said, walking back in and grabbing his beer to polish it off.

“Great.” God, he’d thought it would be easier to keep his eyes off Dean once the guy got dressed. He’d been wrong. Letting the pair out of the room, he followed and locked the door. “So Frank’s a friend of yours? He lets you use the pool?” he asked as they walked. Suddenly, his hand was clasped by a small hand. Keira was walking between them, holding both their hands. 

“I’m not sure Frank is really anyone’s friend,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Nah, The Ostermans own the place and I struck a deal with them to charge them straight time for after hour emergencies if I get to use the pool. I do other little jobs for them if Frank doesn’t want to do something or has trouble doing something. I mean the guy is like going on eighty I think.” He knew Frank wasn’t anywhere near that old, but there were times the guy acted like the perfect grouchy old guy who grumped about everything.

“That’s a good deal. I just hadn’t seen you guys here before.”

“I keep weird hours, so we come at weird hours, different days, you know,” Dean answered.

“Squish squish.” Keira looked up at Sam.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m _trying_ to forget that,” he chuckled and glanced at Dean. “Now I get why they say it’s the quiet ones you’ve got to worry about.”

“You have no idea. Incidentally, I wouldn’t stand between her and the pool. Without keeping at least one eye on her, anyhow. She’s stronger than she looks,” Dean said, trying to give Sam fair warning about what his little ‘innocent’ child had suggested earlier. “You _can_ swim, right?” He cocked an eyebrow at Sam and glanced down at Keira, then back at Sam and tried to keep a straight face.

He followed Dean’s gaze then raised his own brows, mouthing ‘really?’ “Yeah, I can swim. One time, it was real slippery next to the pool and when I felt myself falling in, I grabbed at three people around me and we all ended up in the pool.”

Keira gasped, eyes wide.

“Yup. And next thing you knew, someone’s dentures were floating right next to me. You two weren’t swimming that day, were you?”

Laughing, she head butted her dad’s hip, still hanging onto both of them as they safely passed the pool and moved to the sidewalk.

Dean smirked, nodding approvingly to Sam. “So, what made you decide to take up teaching, and teaching music? Wannabe rock star? You’re working on having the hair for it,” he teased.

“Hey, no jokes about the hair.” They stopped next to a car, a black Impala, as Dean tossed their bags inside. “Suits you. The car,” Sam said. “As for teaching, it kind of just happened. When I was growing up, kids would ask me for help with homework, so I was used to tutoring. During college I worked some after school programs. After that, it was a no brainer. I mean I like music. It’s a thing with people who are good at math. Since I’m not really rockstar material.” He laughed. “Med school, or teach and maybe have some time to try to write music.” 

“Med school,” Dean said giving a low whistle as they walked at a leisurely pace. “The teacher must come from money. I’m just hoping Keira is a brainiac and can get a scholarship, cause at the rate I’m saving, I’ll be lucky to be able to afford to send her to community college or some trade school, if that’s what she wants. My dad was a Marine, but the military isn’t for everyone. Definitely wasn’t what I wanted to do.” 

Throwing his head back, Sam laughed and shook his head. “The teacher would have done it on loans and scholarships, and trust me, I’ve been told plenty of times that I should have my head examined for the choice I made. I dunno, I’m happy with what I’m doing. Growing up, there were a couple people that made me want to help people. I guess I looked up to them and sort of, maybe, tried to do the same thing.” He flashed back on Matt ruffling his hair and telling him he could do whatever he wanted. “This way,” he nodded, so they turned the corner.

“That’s about the most important lesson you can learn,” Dean said. “Finding a job that makes you happy. If you get to help people or animals or whatever floats your boat, that’s even better. Keira wants a pet, so right now she has a plant she’s had to take care of. She has to give it just so much water every day. She’s done real good, so she might get a fish soon. Tell Mr. C what kind of fish you want.”

Suddenly appearing a little shy, she looked down.

“I know, I know, an octopus fish!” Sam said.

Frowning, she looked up. “That’s not a fish.”

Sam’s gaze slid to Dean’s. “It’s not? I guess I need to go back to school. Is it a buck toothed sea urchin? We’ll have to look a sea urchin up on my phone later, I forget what it looks like.”

“Urchin. I thought that was a bratty kid,” Dean said and squeezed Keira’s hand. “Do you know any bratty kids? I know! Show Mr. C how that big-eyed fish you want swims. C’mon, I’ll help. Put your fins out.”

Letting go of Sam’s hand and having her dad help, boosted her confidence and she stuck her arms out and began windmilling them. Dean followed suit, without quite as much show. “Okay so it moves its fins up and down. What’s it butt do? C’mon, waggle,” he encouraged her as he twisted his own butt back and forth a few times. He glanced back at Sam. “She wants a molly fish with the big bubble eyes and fancy tails.”

Sam smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Of course! A molly fish! You guys are really, really good at being molly fish,” he laughed. “See, who needs a flashing red nose?” he asked, nodding towards the laughing child, then looking back at Dean. 

“Butt wiggle. Butt wiggle I can do,” Dean said, sweeping his daughter up and tossing her up in the air before settling her on his hip as they walked into the restaurant. “Mmm, look Keira. They have shakes. We will have to split a strawberry shake,” he said, ignoring that he’d just finished off a beer. “What is the Winchester Golden Rule?”

“Desserts first!” she exclaimed happily.

“Yahtzee, Squirt,” he agreed.

“I thought the rule was fruit first,” Sam said.

“Just in class.” Keira had her finger up, like she was instructing him.

He gave a “hmm,” but his eyes were full of mirth. 

The hostess approached, smiling. “Sam, your family must have joined you.”

“What? No, it’s… ah. This is Keira, one of my students. And her dad, ah…” He blinked because the name wouldn’t come to him, not when he knew exactly what the hostess had thought.

“Dean. And no, this is a pre-date, date.” He winked at the waitress, and glanced over at Sam, curious as to his reaction to that.

Sam gave him a quizzical look, surprised by the joke. “Thanks, for supplying your name. And sorry about, yeah, you didn’t have to…” he trailed off and started to follow the hostess, trying not to put too much stock in what Dean had said. He’d just been smoothing over a hella embarrassing moment, that was all.

Keira slid into the booth right after Sam so she’d be sitting between them. Dean didn’t mind since it actually put him in a better position to talk with Sam. He thanked the hostess for the booster seat and helped Keira into it. Soon she’d be big enough not to need one. He flipped the menu open to the desserts. “Choose our appetizer. No ice cream if we’re going to have a shake. And then decide if you want a hamburger, grilled cheese, or…” he looked over the kids menu, “chicken tenders or fish.”

Dean met Sam’s gaze. “Seemed like whenever I’d take her out for a special dinner or something, I’d get a call and we kept missing dessert, so I made the rule that when we’re out at a sit down restaurant, dessert comes first. It seems to have broken the bad luck streak I had there for a while and it’s fun to see the looks I get when I give my daughter dessert first. I’ve been lectured half a dozen times and Keira and I just laugh our butts off at them, don’t we, Sweety.”

“Cause we’re Winchesters! And Winchesters don’t take poop from anyone!”

Dean winced and covered his face. At least she said poop, he consoled himself. And the fact that she was doing so much talking, well, she could pretty much say anything she wanted and he’d be glad. Even if he had to correct her. “That’s right but let’s leave that last part off in public, okay, Squirt?”

“I like it, great motto. And great reason for dessert first. Pick something for me, too,” Sam told her, though he made a bit of a face when she pointed at a three-layer chocolate cake with ice-cream and three types of syrup. “That’ll take a week to work off, how about something less sweet or with … it’s fine,” he said, changing his mind because he didn’t want to douse her excitement. 

“You can help us eat our appetizer,” Dean offered and pointed to a couple of the larger sized desserts. “Since Mr. C is going to help us eat it, you can get one with ice cream.”

Her eyes grew big and she immediately pointed to a big slice of apple pie with two scoops of ice cream on it, with caramel sauce drizzled over it topped with whipped cream. “Pie!” she declared happily. She looked at Sam and held up her finger. “Fruit first.”

It was all Dean could do to keep from breaking into laughter.

* * *

Standing near the white picket fence next to the ‘for sale’ sign swaying in the breeze, Sam looked at his watch. The real estate agent was late, but he was learning that time wasn’t that important in this little town. It wasn’t like he was in a rush anyway.

The yard was nice and neat, with small white pebbles separating the various planted areas. The small two-story house appeared to be newly painted. It had a chimney, so he could imagine having a nice cozy fire in the evenings, when the temperatures dropped.

The rumble of a car pulling up to a stop across the street had Sam turning to see the black Impala. Dean lifted a hand in greeting as he got out of the car. “Hey, what are you doing in my neck of the woods? Looking for me--Keira, stop!” he yelled and she froze in her tracks, obviously getting ready to sprint across the street. He walked over to her and held out his hand. “You never cross the street without looking, and without a grownup unless it’s life or death. And you should always cross at the corners so drivers can see you unless you’re with an adult. Look left. Look right. Is it safe to cross?”

She nodded, but waited for Dean to take the first step out.

“Good job, Squirt.” He led Keira across the street to where Sam was. “Hey.”

Smiling, Sam gave them a nod. “You live there? 

“Yeah,” Dean said, glancing back at his house, noticing the grass needed mowing. “It’s small but has a detached two car garage off the alley and a small storage shed. Gives me a place to lock up my small pickup with my tools at night and still have room to work on projects.”

“Well, I promise I’m not stalking you. I’m waiting for the real estate agent to show me around this place,” Sam said. “I’ve been looking for a while, and this looks like something I’d be real interested in. Hey Keira.”

Keira walked forward and tugged on Sam’s jeans. “You don’t want that house. It’s haunted. There’s a scary lady in the attic. I see her sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah?” He looked down at her. “You afraid I’ll be giving you extra homework if I live across the street?” 

She shook her head and stepped back by Dean looking imploringly up at him.

“You never told me about the lady before,” Dean said squatting down in front of her and smoothing her hair down. “Don’t worry, if Mr. C likes the house, we can go in and tell that ghost to get the heck out of his house, okay? We’ll make sure he’s safe.”

Dean stood up and looked calmly at Sam. “She has nightmares sometimes. Nothing to worry about,” he reassured Sam, already knowing he’d be visiting the cemetery this weekend to make sure whoever ended up with the house didn’t have any angry spirits to deal with. “This is a nice neighborhood. I think you’d like it.”

“I like the rolling hills. I can see myself jogging in the mornings and stopping in at the little coffee shop at the bottom of the street. Course I haven’t seen the inside yet.” He looked at Keira, noticing she looked stressed. “You know not all ghosts are scary? I could make friends--” Keira’s panicked expression stopped Sam from continuing. 

“He doesn’t believe,” she said, squeezing Dean’s hand.

Sam couldn’t ignore the undercurrent of emotion. The real fear. The staunch belief. The brave way in which she persisted even knowing how incredible her story might be. And he understood being in that position only too well. He looked back at the house, his gaze moving to the second story. “You know what? If you’ve seen a ghost in there, then I don’t need to meet her. I’ll find a better place. Okay? I’ll take the fact that the real estate agent is really late as a sign.” 

She exhaled and nodded vigorously.

Dean looked down and squeezed her hand, giving her a reassuring smile before looking back at Sam. “Maybe it just means you’re not supposed to look at it yet. Maybe next week would be better, if you don’t find something you like more. Maybe the ghost will be gone by next week. They do that sometimes, you know. Move on.” He gave his daughter’s hand another squeeze.

“Ohhhh,” she whispered then nodded and jumped up and down, tugging on her dad’s hand. “Yes. Next week! Next week!”

“It’s settled, then. I guess I’ll go take a look at the next place on my list. I’d really like to be able to bike to work, but I might take a look at a house in Fallbrooks. More house for less money and less convenience.” Sam gave a shrug, “It can’t hurt to look, right?”

“No, sure can’t, but more house means more cleaning,” Dean said, slapping Sam on the shoulder. “Don’t forget that important fact. You should go north about two blocks. There’s a nice house there. Not on the market yet, but people are moving, got a moving van in front of the house. If I didn’t have less than a year in this house and it was affordable, I’d jump on it. But no clue what they’re going to ask. Still wouldn’t hurt to look.”

“Thanks for the tip, I’ll check it out. See you in class tomorrow, Keira. And I’ll see you at the open house,” he told Dean. He didn’t want to leave, but he couldn’t think of a good reason to stay. 

“Dinner?” Keira said and tugged on her dad’s arm again.

“Ah, we’re going to throw a couple burgers on the grill. If you want to join us,” Dean offered.

“I’m sure you don’t need me gate crashing, but thanks. Appreciate it,” Sam answered, knowing Keira had made it impossible for Dean to not invite him. “If you happen to see the agent, let him know I’m gone?”

“I don’t mind you gate crashing,” Dean said. “At all. Then you can tell the agent yourself. C’mon. I make a mean burger. Join us,” he said, glancing back at the small house that was his.

He searched Dean’s face, then gave a nod. “I’d like that.” He wasn’t expecting Keira to start jumping with glee and had to quickly move out of her way. “Whoa.”

He started to walk across the street with the pair of them. But what was he doing? Really? He looked at Dean’s profile, then forced himself to look at the house across the street. 

“Groceries are in the back seat,” Dean said and once he made sure Keira was safely on the sidewalk, he opened the back door of the car and handed Sam a bag and a six pack of beer. “Take the side gate on into the backyard and put the stuff on the picnic table. Keira, why don’t you show Mr. C. the backyard? I’ll join you as soon as I put away a few things in the fridge,” he said, nodding to the gallon of milk he had and another bag of items.

Keira grabbed Sam’s belt loop since his hands were full and led him to the side gate. 

“You must be hungry,” he said, as he was tugged towards the gate. Reaching over the gate, he unlocked and opened it, following her inside. There was a big barbeque off to one side, and an umbrella covered table with benches on either side. Setting the bags down, he started to unpack them since a lot of the items were condiments and drinks.

There were a lot of scattered toys in the yard and on the patio. Among them were dolls, push cars, brightly colored balls, a tricycle, and jump ropes. 

“Ball,” she said, picking one up and tossing it toward Sam.

Sam lifted his foot and bounced the red ball on it a few times, before lightly kicking it towards her. 

She squeed gleefully and tried to emulate him, then rushed to the tricycle. “My bike,” she announced and jumped on it, pedaling it up and down the sidewalk leading to the two-car garage. Once she had ridden down to the garage and back, she hopped off and picked up the jump rope. “Rope?” she asked.

Dean walked out the back door with paper plates and a spatula and knife. “She wants you to jump rope. No, Keira, he’s going to help me get dinner going. And you need to pick up your toys and put them in your trunk. After dinner you can get your ball out and we’ll play a little ball. But you have to put your toys away first.” He smiled at Sam and nodded toward her as she began carrying things over to a plastic trunk meant for hoses. “Never seen any kid love balls as much as she does. I think that’s why she wants the goldfish she does, cause it’s the roundest one.” 

Sam gave a laugh at that and seeing Keira was still holding the rope as she put other toys away, he told her, “that rope’s too short for me, but after dinner we can count as you jump, or we’ll play ball, okay?” Though she didn’t answer, he saw she finally put one of the ropes into the toy trunk.

He put the plates and cups out, then followed Dean to the barbeque. “Do you want me to make anything? Salad, fries?”

“You can cut the tomatoes and onions into slices for the burgers, and break a little lettuce off. We’re just having chips and burgers tonight. Dessert is a bowl of strawberries with some whipped cream.” Dean turned on a hose leading from the house that was natural gas and lit the grill. He filled a long basket with a light scattering of charcoal briquets and set it down in the grill. “You know I’ve tried it without the charcoal and it’s just not as good, but charcoal takes so long and is kind of expensive, so I came up with this. I cook the burgers with the gas, then towards the end, I move them over the charcoal, so the last bit of the burgers have that cooked-over-charcoal taste.” Dean began making the burgers. “You’re doing a really really great job Keira,” he said to his daughter who looked at him and beamed, then dragged some more toys over to the box. 

They talked for a few minutes, until Dean had the meat on the grill and gave Sam the nod to start slicing.

Droplets of water clung to the tomatoes, so Sam realized that they’d already been washed. Grabbing a couple and one of the plates, Sam quickly and efficiently sliced them. “Oh man, I’m glad I’m not moving right across the street from you. Your burgers smell so good I’d probably be eating all day long. I didn’t even know I was hungry.” His stomach gave a low growl. 

Someone walked by the fence. “Hey Dean, Keira,” she called out. Sam felt her curious look, and gave her a nod. 

“Hey Monica. This is Sam. He’s the music teacher that took over when Mr. Phelps left.”

“Oh, hi Sam! I’ve heard good things about you from Davy. He’s in third grade. David Jasper. Red hair, freckles?” she said, wondering if Sam had noticed her son.

“You’re Davy’s mom? He’s a great kid. Probably the most responsible one in his class. Will you be at the Open House tomorrow?” 

“No, I have to work. I waitress at Blackjack’s Diner. My sister is going though and recording stuff for me.” She gave a wave to Dean. “See you later. Don’t forget I still need you to fix that window.”

“You’re on the list, Monica,” Dean said, giving a wave back. He glanced at Sam. “Windows were painted shut. I’ve gotten most of them working, but that last one is being a bear.” He flipped the burgers and let them cook for a few minutes, before sliding them over the charcoal tray.

Keira came over with her ball. “Ball?”

“After dinner, kiddo, okay?” Dean said and grabbed a beer for Sam and one for himself.

“Why don’t you bounce it against the wall and it’ll come back to you,” Sam suggested. She didn’t look too happy, but she picked a wall close to them and started to play.

Taking the beer, Sam raised it in the air and took a swig. “Can’t believe how warm the weather’s been, for December. I was speaking with my parents and they’re up to their eyeballs with snow. I tell ya, I don’t miss shoveling snow.” He went to grab a plate and brought it close to the grill and Dean started loading the burger patties on it. If this wasn’t the scene of domestic bliss, he didn’t know what was. Course it was all in his head, and he needed to remember that, he told himself sternly.

“Have to admit, I haven’t done a lot of snow shoveling,” Dean said. “Some for Bobby--he’s kinda my adopted uncle, and some for Pastor Jim, another friend of my dad’s I stayed with sometimes. Your parents, they in Colorado or North Texas?” he asked. “You got any brothers or sisters?” 

“They’re in Colorado, and nope, no siblings. I grew up on a small farm, so there were always kids, people around. My parents wanted me to stay, keep the place running. When I was a kid, they kept telling me the world is big and bad, and it’s safe at the farm. But that wasn’t true.” He tried to close his mind to the memories trying to jimmy their way into his head. “I mean, there’s nowhere absolutely safe, you know? Big City, small town, they all come with the good and bad. I wanted more, so … this must be boring you to death, and I think Keira is ready for her burger,” he said, taking the plate to the table where she was already sitting. 

“Daddy is safe,” Keira said, looking at Sam, then turning adoring eyes on Dean.

“Daddies always do their best to keep their kids safe,” Dean agreed, smiling at her as he turned off the gas and settled at the table. He put a handful of potato chips on his daughter’s plate, some on his own, then offered them to Sam. “And no, Sam, your story about leaving, it doesn’t bore me. I never really had a regular life so I like to hear about how others grew up, maybe get ideas to help make her life more normal.”

“Army brat?” Sam raised a brow. “I think you’re doing a great job of parenting, for what it’s worth.” He meant every word of that. Taking a small handful of chips, he started adding ketchup and a little mustard to his burger. 

Dean chuckled. “Something like that. But Marine. My dad was a Marine. And thanks, my dad was my hero, but his parenting was kinda iffy.” He helped Keira top her burger, adding extra tomatoes and ketchup. When she nodded, he put the top bun on the burger, smashed it down, then cut it in half. On his own, he tripled the onion, putting slices between every layer of garnish he added. “So, did you ride horses as a kid? Go cow tipping as a teen? That’s a thing, right? Cow tipping?” 

“Why does _everyone_ want to know about cow tipping!” 

Keira started to giggle, though it was clear she had no idea what they were talking about. She was amused by the word ‘tipping.’

“We had things like TVs and radios, you know,” Sam continued. “And there was a town, an hour away or so. And some neighbors would show movies on outdoor screens.” With both Winchesters staring intently at him, he raised his hands up in defeat. “Okay, yes, I went cow tipping. I shouldn’t have, I was bad. And apparently bad at it, because I got caught. Trust me, there was no more cow tipping after that!”

Dean let out with a loud laugh. “Rule number two. Don’t get caught. I learned that one when I shoplifted a bag of M&Ms and got caught. They called my dad.” He shook his head. “Never again.”

Sam grimaced, figuring they’d both been on the receiving end of a switch or some sort of physical punishment. “I think that means ‘no accidentally taking stuff’ and ‘definitely no cow tipping’ for you,” Sam told Keira, unsure whether Dean had meant to let his daughter know he’d shoplifted as a teen. “No fish tipping either, once you get your molly.” 

“Daddy, molly,” she said, her ketchup-smudged mouth widening into a grin.

“Oops.” Sam stuffed his own mouth, hoping he wasn’t in hot water for bringing up the fish she wanted.

“No, I’ve been straight with her about some of the things I did. I was not a perfect kid. I’m not a perfect dad. I don’t expect her to be perfect. I expect her to try her best, and to talk to me no matter what. And she’ll get her molly when?”

“Christmas!” she said, kicking her feet.

Dean nudged Sam and pointed to a plant in the window. “That’s the one she had to take care of. The one that’s blooming. So I think she’s ready for a fish for Christmas.”

“Getting close to Christmas. Are you doing a countdown?”

She nodded.

“Whew, glad I didn’t step into it,” Sam muttered, finishing up the burger and licking his thumb before wiping his hand with a napkin.

Dean’s brow furrowed and then he realized Sam had been concerned about bringing up the fish. “No,” he chuckled, “you didn’t. She earned her fish.”

Both men glanced at Keira who was still smiling and kicking her feet as she took another bite of hamburger.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam had worked hard on getting his classroom all spruced up for open house. He added some blinking Christmas decorations to the windows, so they were visible from outside. The children’s artwork was neatly on display. And he had a large billboard with pictures of the kids practicing, playing instruments, and wearing or using some of the props to be used in the holiday show.

He had a table set up with refreshments for both the adults and the kids, and couldn’t be prouder about the fact that every single one of the kids that he observed had gotten fruit, before snacks. A few of the parents even remarked on it.

As he spoke with some of the parents, he had to occasionally fend off a request from one child or another that he wear his Rudolf nose or show them his tiger growl. “What do I say about timing? There’s a right time and place,” he repeated a few times, shaking his head at their exaggerated sighs. He had no intention of making a fool of himself in front of their parents, and one parent in particular.

He’d already spoken with Dean about Keira and talked to him about her progress. At first, she hadn’t participated in class at all. But now, she loved shaking the sleigh bells to make music, and silently mouthed the songs. He’d even heard her sing under her breath and had high hopes she would join in, maybe by the time of the show. The entire time he’d talked with Dean, his stomach had fluttered. It was really ridiculous, considering he’d run into the guy so often and it wasn’t as if anything could come from his attraction to Dean. 

“Okay, how about all remaining students sit in a circle over there, and we’ll sing the ‘thank you’ song for your parents?” Once the kids sat cross-legged on the carpet, he gave the kids a look, and switched on the wall screen. “And this is for our parents, so they can sing along when the lyrics come up for them.

That got a lot of the kids craning their necks to look at their parents. Sam’s gaze moved to Dean. He wondered what his singing voice sounded like. Bet it was low and raspy, just like his speaking voice.

Dean groaned to himself. He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. And that was with songs he knew. If he didn’t know them? Dogs did more than howl, they ran for their life. Bobby always said Dean could kill a banshee with one round of “row your boat.”  
Still, he had to show his daughter that he wasn’t afraid of singing and even though he despised being the center of attention, he would endure it for his Keira.

He watched Keira pretend to sing and gave her the thumbs up. Illusionary participation was better than no participation. He joined the other parents in an attempt at the song and saw at least one woman physically wince. He shrugged and smiled at the woman. He knew he was more than a little tone deaf. Trying to make his voice a little softer didn’t seem to really help, but it did make his daughter giggle and give _him_ the thumbs up in return. He was just really glad when the participation part of open house was over and he suspected more than a few of the other parents were as well. 

“Let’s give our kids a hand,” Sam said clapping. “And now let’s give our parents a hand for being great sports and singing with us. Thanks everyone, for coming tonight. Kids, I’ll see you on Monday. Andre, put that nose back on the shelf. And yes, I do have eyes in the back of my head.”

Grinning, he watched as little groups of adults and half-pints headed out and there were a lot of shouts of “g’bye Mr. C.’”

Although Keira had been very reserved around all the parents, with them gone, she ran over to her dad and hugged his leg. Smiling down at her, he ruffled her hair a little. “You’re welcome, Squirt. You did good. Go say goodbye to Mr. C. and we’ll head home.”

She walked up to Sam and hugged his leg wordlessly.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and looked down at her. “Like he said, you did great. You have a good weekend, ok? Gimme a five, alright.” When she ran back to her father, Sam gave him a smile. “You did great too, Mr. W. Thanks for helping the class out.”

“I didn’t break any windows with my voice. That’s an accomplishment I’d say.” He lifted a hand, waving goodbye and led Keira out the door of the room.

All Sam knew was that Dean could sing off key all day long and Sam would be happy to listen. He leaned to one side, looking through the doorway, trying to watch Dean for as long as he possibly could. The side of his foot pressed into a small matchbox car, making him lose his footing. When he grabbed for the edge of the closest desk, the tray that sat on it flipped up into the air.

He fell to the ground with a thud. The tray of various colored paints landed on him, the thick, wet liquid dripping from his forelock and all over his shirt and pants, taking him by surprise. “Jesus!” 

Hearing the crash and Sam’s exclamation, Dean rushed back to the room, keeping his daughter protectively behind him. “Sam! Are you--” 

He saw Sam on the floor, covered in paint and tried very hard to keep from laughing, running his hand over his mouth in an effort to hide his laugh. “You okay?” he finally managed to ask.

For a moment, Sam leaned his forehead against his arm, letting out a deep breath. “Kill me now,” he huffed, feeling the heat creep up his face and neck. 

“Pink. Red. Yellow. White. White. Blue,” Keira sing-songed. When Sam looked up, he saw she was pointing at the various splotches all over him.

“Fine. Just, great. Maybe feeling a little jinxed, but yeah, I’m good.” He didn’t bother getting up, but hoped the embarrassment would be over soon. 

Walking over to the small sink, Dean looked at what the school laughably called paper towels and instead pulled a blue bandana from his pocket and soaked it with water. He often used it if he had to clean Keira’s face or hands, but this one was clean and unused. “Keira, stay back from the paint.”

Walking carefully closer to Sam, staying clear of the paint himself, he held out the wet bandana. “Here, for your face. Want me to bring in a bucket and mop for you and see if I can find some better paper towels?”

“You must think I’m a walking disaster,” Sam said wryly, taking the bandana. “Actually, I was just practicing for the color run. Yeah, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.” He wiped as much of the paint off his face and hands as he could without a mirror. Then he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, holding it out so the liquid resting on it wouldn’t spill over to the floor as he got up. When that didn’t work, he pulled the shirt off over his head, rolling the material up so any paint on it would not make a mess. “I’ve got this. But thanks.”

Dean straightened, his gaze roving over the muscular body before him, startled at just how chiseled the man was. “Daaaamn. You keep in shape. _Nice_ shape.” He gave Sam a final once over with an appreciative smirk, then held his hand out to Keira. “C’mon Squirt. I think your dad needs some ice cream to cool off.”

Sam had been searching Dean’s eyes for hints of how he’d meant the compliment. Had he meant it in the sense that he worked out too and appreciated someone else who took care of their body? Or was it just a compliment from a straight guy who wasn’t threatened by what others hearing him might think? There were a million possibilities, but they all narrowed down to one the instant he mentioned needing ice cream.

Sam sucked in a breath, hardly daring to breathe or to look away. He’d heard Dean right, he just had to believe it. He licked his lips. “I didn’t see that coming,” he said softly. “And I do like ice cream, so maybe some time, when I’m not wearing paint…”

Dean tilted his head in a slight nod. “You look good in or out of paint. And yeah, I’d like that.” He felt Keira tugging him, looking forward to ice cream. Pulling his gaze from Sam’s body, he met his eyes, wanting Sam to know it wasn’t just his body. “See you soon, Mr. C.,” he said and ambled out, his daughter pulling him toward the car. 

* * *

Dean glanced down at his clothes. Ratty jeans, comfortable t-shirt, worn work boots. He hadn’t brought anything nicer to change into, but he hadn’t really expected to find himself at the motel, in front of Sam’s door. Should he knock? Should he call first? He’d been headed out of town for a hunt and got the word that another hunter had already picked up the investigation. That meant he had at least tonight to be daughter-free if he wanted. Keira was probably almost ready for bed at Charlene’s so why disrupt anything? Instead, he could take a night off, no hunting, no daughter and just be Dean.

Only one way to find out if this was a good or bad idea. He lifted his hand and knocked firmly on the door. 

Sam had just grabbed his jacket and keys when the knock sounded. He tugged the door open, expecting either housekeeping or a salesperson ignoring the ‘no solicitation’ sign on the property. His eyes widened. “Dean?” The guy filled up the door, or maybe it was just hard for Sam to focus beyond him. 

“Hey, Sam,” he said, running his fingers through his short hair a little nervously, which was ridiculous. He was never nervous about asking someone out. Okay, it had been awhile, but he still shouldn’t be nervous. It was stupid to be nervous. “I, ah, I had an overnight trip cancelled, which means I’m free this evening. Would you want to, I don’t know, go out for a drink or catch a movie or something? I should’a called, shouldn’t I?” It only then occurred to him he didn’t actually have Sam’s number.

Over a week had gone by since Dean’s offhand suggestion that they go out and Sam had all but convinced himself that either Dean hadn’t meant it or Sam had misunderstood. It was a black and white question now, one with only a single possible answer. “I’d like that. A lot,” he smiled. “I was just about to head out to Glenly, but you know, there’s a pretty good bar right here in town. Jenky’s. Pick your poison.”

“Jenky’s is fine. Free peanuts and pretzels, unless you want more discreet. Glenly has 1692, a decent bar for guys like us,” Dean offered. He didn’t know how low-key Sam might want to keep his interest in guys. Dean didn’t really care for himself. If people didn’t like it, tough shit, but some parents could get testy about crap like that.

“Jenky’s it is.” The town next door, Glenly, had more bars and cafes, so it offered a bigger variety of people. But if he had a date, local was better. And more convenient, depending on how the night went. Sam locked the door and pulled his jacket on. “Thanks. For not catching me with water spraying all over, or in some other ridiculous sitch. I swear I’m not aka Calamity Sam.”

Dean began laughing. “I didn’t think you were, but it adds to your charms to know you’re not perfect. I had a lot of minor calamities when I first moved here with Keira, too. Maybe it’s something about the town. All I know is my initial problems sort of helped break down some of my walls with strangers and I ended up meeting a lot of good people pretty fast. A few jerks, too,” Dean said, shaking his head. “All right if we take my car? I’m one of those types who likes to drive,” he admitted, glancing at Sam with a smirk. If Sam wanted to take that more than one way, Dean was good with that. 

Sam’s gaze slid to Dean’s. “Sure. I’m flexible,” he answered with a slight smirk of his own. 

They were on the street and heading to the shiny black car. “So, where were you going? For the weekend, I mean?” Sam asked. 

“On a hunt,” Dean said, unlocking the door for Sam then walking around the hood to his own door. He got in. “There’s a junkyard about five hours from here where I hoped to get a part needed by a buyer. Planned to pick up the part first thing in the morning tomorrow, but as soon as I headed out, I got word that another business found the part for the buyer. Since I was near here, I thought I’d take a chance you were in.” He started up the car, pausing to listen to the engine a minute. Sounded like he needed to tweak the carburetor tomorrow. He smiled at Sam. “So I count myself lucky, even if I lost a sale. I got you instead.” 

“Me for junk, there’s a joke in there about it being a fair trade.” Pulling the door shut, Sam found for once he had plenty of legroom. “It was a nice surprise. Finding you at my door,” he admitted. 

“Between you and me, I’d probably been standing there for a few minutes, trying to decide if I was being too pushy, just showing up like that.” Putting the car into gear he pulled out of the parking spot and headed for the bar. “Course, then I realized I didn’t actually have your phone number to call or text you to see if you already had plans. And believe me,” he gave Sam’s body a once over, “if junk looked anything like you, I’d spend all my days at junkyards.”

“Yeah?” He hoped he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt. “The feeling is mutual. I’d hang around a junkyard all day if I knew _you_ were coming to rummage.” He looked out the window, unable to stop smiling. “If you had your heart set on a movie, we could do it after we get a drink. I kinda wanted to get to know you.”

“I don’t have my heart set on anything other than enjoying a childfree evening with you. Does that make me a bad dad?” Dean asked, but was clearly teasing. “I dunno. You get to know me, all you’re going to find is a pretty broke GED high school graduate who knows old cars and handyman stuff and eats a lot of peanut butter and jelly, ramen noodles, and beans. Oh, and who is probably an overprotective dad.”

“To me, that translates to a great dad, smart enough to get out of high school without having to go through an extra year of it, and someone who can keep an engine purring, has squeak-free cabinet doors,” he said almost longingly, “and has a knight in shining armor side gig. So yeah, sounds pretty damned good to me. Unless, you know, you suck at darts.” Jenky’s was big on darts.

“Darts? No, don’t have a clue how to play darts. Or pool. Or pinball.” Dean chuckled and glanced at Sam, mischief in his eyes. “You can teach me. And dude, WD-40 fixes just about any squeaky door.”

“Not the ones at my motel, trust me.” Sam gave a soft huff, then grinned back. “Course I’ll teach you.” There was a look in Dean’s eyes. Sam put it down to thinking about things like having Sam behind him, helping him with a cue stick. Okay, that was probably just where Sam’s mind was going, not necessarily Dean’s. 

When Dean turned into an alley, Sam realized the guy must have frequented the bar often, since he knew the short cut. “I haven’t seen you here before,” he said.

“That would be because you probably don’t get to visit the place for happy hour,” Dean said. “I’m guessing you’re like most teachers who don’t actually get out of school until five or six.” 

“I’m actually done by three, but I do work the after-school programs, so yeah, not usually around early.” 

Dean parked the Impala in the side lot and got out. He looked at the bar. “Not often I see this place after dark. Kinda nice for a change.”

Joining him, Sam slapped him lightly on the back. “Let’s go teach you how to play pool.”

They headed inside. The place was only just starting to fill up so some pool tables were available. There were quite a few empty barstools and no one had dibs on the dart board yet. Sam put in his order for a beer, then Dean put up two fingers. When the bartender brought the bottles, he quickly paid for them. 

Dean was going to ask if Sam wanted to play pool or darts first, but Sam headed over to a place beside the pool tables. Dean set his beer on the table and walked over to the rack of cues on the wall. After picking a cue stick at random, he plucked the rack for the balls off the shelf. He put it on the table, then took a sip from his beer, waiting for Sam to choose a cue stick.

Sam checked a couple cue sticks, then selected one and picked up the cube of blue chalk. As Sam chalked the tip of his cue stick, he explained that in a real game, one of them would try to get all the solid balls into the pockets, while the other would try to get the striped balls in. The first one to do that, then sink the 8-ball in would win. “For now, we won’t worry about stripes or colors.”

Moving to the table, he leaned over. “First thing you need to get down is how to hold the cue stick. You line your body up with the ball, and hold the cue stick here. Not too tightly,” he said, then he put his other hand on the table. “You can pick the sort of bridge you’re most comfortable with, but these are the most common,” he said, first lifting his thumb and resting the stick on the bridge between his thumb and index finger. Then he put all of his fingers down on the table, lifting his wrist up. This time, he slipped the cue down the bridge formed between his index and middle finger. “Keep your body low, and mentally line the end of the stick to the center of the ball you’re going to hit.”

After dropping the balls into the rack and putting them in sequence, he adjusted the rack to the corrected location. He pulled the rack off the table and took the opening break shot, scattering the balls across the table without sinking any. “Okay, I think the easiest shots are that one, that one, and that one. Give it a go?” he took a swig of his drink, and set it down. 

Dean followed Sam’s instructions to a ‘T’ but failed to hit the ball dead on and the ball spun off to the right, bouncing off of a rail and coming to rest, perfectly setting up Sam’s next shot. “Harder than it looks,” Dean said with a nod, making a bit of a face. He looked at Sam. “Go on, I’m not six and needing a do-over. It’s your turn.”

“I know, but we’re not playing a real game yet. Come on, give it another try. Six-ball into that pocket. I’ll help you line it up,” he said, gesturing for Dean to go ahead.

Dean moved to where he had a reasonable angle on the shot. Moving behind him, Sam nudged him over a little more. He let Sam adjust the angle of the cue stick and adjust his stance. 

Dean took the shot, the 6-ball going into the pocket, followed immediately by the white cue ball. “I got them both in,” Dean declared smiling at Sam.

“Ha, I knew you would. Nice work. Except, maybe next time, try not to sink the cue ball, okay?” He knew he was using his Mr. C voice and trying to be encouraging rather than critical. Dipping his hand into the table pocket, he pulled the cue ball out and lined it up. “Try again.”

He watched closely as Dean walked around the table and bent over. Mesmerized for a second, he had to blink himself back to reality. He put his hand on Dean’s back, pushing lightly. “Go as low as you can, and remember, you want to stroke the ball, not poke it. You got this.” 

“Stroke it not poke it. I’ll remember that,” Dean said, dropping lower and sinking the ball. He looked over his shoulder at Sam. “You’re a good teacher. Now I gotta ask you something,” he said, straightening up and picking up the blue cube of chalk, lightly adding a bit of chalk to the cue tip. “Will you forgive me for bull-shitting you?”

He turned and sank three balls in succession, then grinned at Sam.

One hand on his hip, Sam stared as Dean took impossible shots and made them stick. He raised his eyes to meet Dean’s. “Darts? Pinball?” The guy didn’t even have to answer. He banged the heel of his hand against his forehead. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, I’m a shit,” Dean said laughing, putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I used to spend a lot of time in bars. So sue me. I wanted to see how good a teacher you were and maybe enjoyed your personal attention a little. Maybe a lot. But I figured you’d really kill me if I played dumb all night, even if I wanted to.”

“I _really_ don’t think you can walk into any room and not get all the attention you want.” Sam shook his head. “Alright then, we’re playing a real game. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Spreading his arms, he easily swept the balls on the table into a group, then started adding the balls from the pockets. 

“Maybe it’s been awhile since I wanted anyone’s attention,” Dean said, “because I honestly hate to be the center of attention. You can take the break. And Sam? Don’t hold back on your shots. I want to see what you’ve got, too.” He scooped up his bottle of beer and took a long drink from it.

Was Dean implying it was his attention that he craved? He raised an eyebrow at that. Like wasn’t it obvious he’d had Sam’s attention from the moment he’d laid eyes on Dean in the grocery store? “You got it.” 

After he broke, sinking both a stripe and a solid, Sam checked the layout of the balls and decided to go with the solids. Moving around the table, he bent over, carefully lining up his shot. His tongue glided across his lower lip, then he took the shot. The cue ball darted across the table, tapping another ball and sending it into a pocket. “Yes.” Sam smiled, relieved he wasn’t starting with an unlucky streak. Anything was possible around Dean. “Are those beads of sweat forming at your temples?” he asked, moving to take another shot.

“Got nothing to do with the shot. Everything to do with the table and who’s at it,” Dean said, not paying a bit of attention to the pool balls. His attention was focused one-hundred percent on the man and the way he moved, the way his muscles flexed, the way that lock of hair fell over his forehead. “Yeah, definitely the who,” Dean said, absently sipping his beer.

“Uh huh. I’m onto you now. You’re trying to wreck my concentration.” Sam waited until Dean swallowed, before even going for the shot. Two balls sank into the pockets. This time, he managed not to make a sound of victory. The next shot he took was impossible, and he knew it. Wincing when the ball lifted off the table, hit the edge and was propelled away from the corner, he moved to the drinks ledge along the wall and grabbed his beer. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Dean dragged his gaze from Sam and focused on the table. The only way Sam would ever want to play pool with him again was if he either hid his talent, or made his own shots more difficult. Okay, the latter was the better choice. He decided every ball he sank had to bounce off at least one rail before going in. He sank one cleanly. The second shot, it was obvious he was making the shot harder than it needed to be, but that was okay with him. The third ball hung at the edge of the pocket. “C’mon,” Dean murmured, but he just hadn’t given it quite enough of a hit. “Crap. You’re up,” he said, 

“You know I’m not a six year old who’ll get his feelings hurt if I lose, right?” Looking at a passing cocktail waitress, Sam ordered a couple more beers, then headed to the table.

“And I used to hustle money on a regular basis shooting pool. It’s no fun standing around watching your buddy sink ball after ball after ball.” Dean gave a huff of laughter. “I’ve been on that side of it, too.” He looked at Sam’s face. “Maybe I shoulda just quit while I was ahead?” he offered. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Sam. 

“Don’t be an idiot. Just play. Impress me,” Sam suggested, giving him a look. “And if you’re as good as you say, then maybe you can give me a couple pointers.” 

“Impress you? Okay. I can do that.” Dean gathered the balls and re-racked them. He broke them, sinking four balls from the start. He circled the table, sinking the balls in numerical order, skipping the 8-ball. He called that shot, then re-racked them, then broke them again. This time, he tugged Sam in front of him for the next three shots. The next two shots, he sank three balls at a time. The last shots he did shooting from behind his back. He looked at Sam. “I can rack ‘em again and let you call the shots. I’ll tell you if I can make the shot or not. Or I can shoot one-handed. Or left-handed. Or all behind my back.” He gave a self-conscious, almost embarrassed shrug. “I was really good at hustling pool.”

“I can see that. And I am, impressed. You make it look easy. Tell me, Dean Winchester, is there anything you’re not good at?” he asked, moving in front of Dean, half-sitting on the edge of the pool table. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean chewed on his lower lip a minute. “Singing. Icing cakes. Origami. Jacks. Putting up with assholes. And probably a hundred, million other things.” He took a step closer to Sam. “Sometimes, behaving myself in public. Or telling someone I think they’re hot as shit, because, you know, people aren’t supposed to just blurt that out. And apparently, doing the whole, ‘let’s get to know each other’ conversation without it going off the rails.”

“That right?” Sam’s gaze dropped to Dean’s way too hot lips, lingered there, then lifted again. “And what if I told you I picked somewhere local hoping you’d come home with me?” he asked, leaning forward so only inches separated their lips. “What if my plan of redeeming myself at darts is sure to fail because I can’t seem to concentrate around you?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper.

“I would say that if we kiss here, now, I’m going to embarrass us both. I would tell you that I would definitely like to go home with you this evening. And warn you.” He licked his own lips but forced himself not to lean in and take the kiss that was offered because Sam, on a pool table, was just too damned tempting. “Warn you that I used to hustle darts, too. Wanna finish our beers and get out of here?”

Sam tossed his head back and gave a soft laugh. “Teacher seduces parent on pool table. That would not make a good headline.” He pushed off the table, one hand trailing across Dean’s waist as he went to get his beer and raised it in a salute.

* * * 

Dean was more than happy to go to Sam’s place. The last thing he needed was awkward reminders that he was a father now or that someone might see he had company and say something in front of Keira later in the week. No, at Sam’s place, he could hide out. He even made sure to park the car out of the way so the motel wouldn’t know he was around and try to call him for nonsense fixes. He was tempted to make out in the car, but again, he just didn’t want anyone to happen to spot him. Not that it really mattered, he guessed, but people could be such dicks over stupid shit.

After locking up the car, Dean walked beside Sam towards Sam’s apartment, glancing over at him now and again, giving Sam hot looks.

Sam understood Dean wanted to be discrete rather than to advertise he was at some motel, but if he kept looking at him like that, he was gonna get jumped. When they finally reached his door, he took a second to rake his gaze over Dean as he pushed his key into the lock. He was about to get lucky with the hottest guy in town, he should be able to muster up a smile. He tried, but only one corner of his mouth lifted. “Get in here,” he whispered, pushing the door open and unable to hide his hunger for the man a moment longer.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Dean said, slipping in behind Sam, wrapping an arm around his waist, and pushing him up against the door. The door clicked shut with a solid thud, and Dean turned the deadbolt. “I wanna kiss the daylights outta you. You okay with that?” he asked, his gaze dropping to those plump, exquisite lips he’d been imagining kissing the entire time they were at the bar. He licked his own lips and forced his gaze up to meet Sam’s. Damn, he was so not used to looking _up_ at someone.

That single look made Sam so blistering hot that any images of the youth he’d been comparing Dean to dissipated just like that. This was the man he wanted. Wanted bad.

“All yours. And if you’re half as good at this as you are at pool,” he groaned, “I’m in a pile of trouble. The good kind.” His gaze dropped to Dean’s sinfully hot lips and he started to lean in, his own mouth burning with anticipation. 

“Gotta admit, I’m a little out of practice. You’ll have to tell me how I do, Teach. I’m shooting for an A+.” Stepping in, Dean pressed his lips against Sam’s, softly at first, giving tender, gentle kisses. Testing the waters, he pulled back. “Nope. Something’s not quite right.” Tilting his head the other way, he tried again only to break off. “Nah, just not... “ he said, almost muttering. “Now I remember!” he said suddenly, crushing his lips against Sam’s, pouring on the heat, giving him the sort of kiss he knew Sam had been hoping for. 

“Tease,” Sam barely managed to say before he was drawn into a kiss that made it impossible to think. Dean’s mouth moved over his just right, his tongue danced and teased, then Dean turned up the heat when Sam didn’t think it could be possible. Groaning into the kiss, he wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He felt so good. So right. So solid, and so damned hard that Sam knew this was no dream.

Breaking the kiss, Sam took a few breaths, then wheeled Dean around reversing their positions. This time he gripped Dean’s hips, then brought his mouth down over Dean’s, pushing him against the door as they kissed again. His tongue delved inside the heat of Dean’s mouth, tangling with Dean’s. With each heavy breath, he drew in Dean’s scent. Clean fresh soap, liquor and a hint of leather. “Dean,” he whispered hoarsely as he started to shove Dean’s jacket out of the way and off his shoulders.

“Damn, did I flunk?” Dean teased after Sam got through kissing the daylights out of _him._ “Guess I’ll need some after school lessons,” he said, gripping Sam’s wrists, stopping him from all but tearing off his jacket. “Sam, take a breath, baby. I’m not going anywhere. Damn, how long has it been for you?” he asked, releasing Sam and slipping out of his coat and tossing it over the arm of a chair.

“You think that’s why?” Sam gave a huff, but stepped back a little, taking a couple breaths and telling himself not to come on so strong. “You, ah, want a drink, or something?”

“I think when I leave here, I want my leather jacket intact. Okay, now that it’s safe,” Grinning, he spread out his arms. “Maul me. Lemme have it, hot stuff.”

“Your jacket.” Sam blinked, then it clicked. “Because you think I’m a klutz.” He laughed and looked up at the ceiling for a second. “I _promise_ I’ll be careful with you,” he said, advancing and lightly gripping Dean’s hips. The material of his shirt slipped up a little, so his thumb brushed against Dean’s warm skin, above the rough material of his jeans. “I’ll even call the shots. Incoming, behind your right ear,” he said, bending slightly and nuzzling right behind Dean’s ear. “Jaw to neck.” He managed to emulate Dean’s tone at the pool table, and started to feather kisses along the man’s rugged jawline. 

Dean chuckled. “No, it’s because it was my dad’s jacket and I’m overprotective of it sometimes,” he said. Curling his fingers in the soft fabric of Sam’s shirt, he began to untuck it, slowly pulling it out of Sam’s pants. “Mmm, that’s a good spot,” he murmured at one place Sam’s mouth lingered. Sam smelled so damned fine, like a breath of fresh air after too long closed up inside. Finally, he slipped his hands under Sam’s shirt, running his fingers caressingly over his warm skin.

The brush of calloused palms over his sensitive skin had Sam tightening his stomach muscles. “Mmm,” he murmured against Dean’s neck, sucking lightly on it. “This one?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. He stepped a little closer, tugging Dean against him, letting him feel the swell of his erection. He moved his mouth back to Dean’s and kissed him slowly, taking his time, even when his heart was racing and his body protesting, screaming for more.

The intensity he felt in Sam’s presence was counter to the slow kisses, like someone who couldn’t make up their mind. Dean had been cautious, with no making out in the car, no arm around the waist on the walk to the apartment, then slowing Sam down so he could get his coat off. Maybe he couldn’t blame Sam; maybe his own signals had been a little mixed. But he could fix that.

Slotting his leg between Sam’s, he offered Sam’s growing erection some pressure. He began working on getting Sam out of his shirt as he tangled their tongues together. “Can’t wait… to get you… naked,” Dean got out between kisses and gasps for breath.

“That right?” Sam hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. His hands moved between them as he helped speed up the task, then raised his arms as Dean peeled the shirt off. He didn’t wait to return the favor, tugging Dean’s over shirt off then reaching for the bottom of his tee shirt. “Anyone ever tell you that you wear too many clothes?” 

“What? Me? Never,” Dean scoffed, letting his hands wander to Sam’s belt which he undid with skilled hands and pulled free of its loops. He let Sam tug off his tee shirt, then began working on undoing Sam’s pants. “Why don’t you kick off those shoes of yours while I handle this, hmm?” he suggested.

“Handle. I like the sound of that.” His gaze locked with Dean’s as he toed off his shoes. His body jerked forward as Dean worked the button of his jeans. Sam bit his lower lip in anticipation even as he got rid of his socks without ever bending down. 

“Let’s see, what was it you said? Stroke it, don’t poke it?” Dean said, repeating Sam’s pool lessons back to him. Slowly, he unzipped Sam’s pants, feeling the press of Sam’s cock increase against the zipper. Not waiting to push down Sam pants or shorts, he reached through the slit and ran his hand along Sam’s shaft. “Like that?” he whispered, watching Sam’s face.

Sam’s eyes closed, his cock hardening as heat and tension flooded through his system. He forced his eyes open. “You ah, you were looking for an A+? Teacher says you’re off the charts.” He stood still another second, and then he couldn’t hold back the rush of need. “If you want me to dial it back, you tell me,” he said, bringing his mouth down hard over Dean’s. He’d felt things for this man from the first moment that he’d seen him. Hope, attraction, crazy notions of finding his hero. Right now was no different, only it was much more intense. Want. Desire. A wild and crazy need to have this man, and maybe to never let go. He kissed him with all the emotions he was feeling, ignoring the voice in the back of his head warning him that he might scare the guy away. He needed this. This man’s hands on him. All over him. Needed it like crazy. 

Sam’s enthusiasm was catching and Dean groaned into the kisses, practically forgetting Sam’s cock still cradled in his hand. After a few more mind-numbing kisses, Dean pulled his hand free of Sam’s shorts. Shoving the guy’s pants down he broke off kissing Sam and dropped to his knees. If Sam wanted wild and intense, he could do that. Hell yeah, could he do that.

With barely any warning, he sucked Sam’s dick into his mouth, deepthroating him. After a few pulses up and down its steely length, he pulled off, gripping Sam’s cock again in his hand and sucked only Sam’s crown back into his mouth, tonguing him expertly.

Gripping Dean’s shoulders to keep from losing his balance, Sam looked down. The sight of Dean’s lips wrapped around his cock had him swearing. His fingers bit into Dean’s shoulder as he stiffened his elbow to keep some distance between them in case he couldn’t prevent himself from thrusting his hips. “So damned good,” he groaned, one hand lifting to Dean’s head, stroking his hair. His cock pulsed as Dean took him deeper into the silky hot depths of his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked hard, drawing another groan from Sam. “Ngh…” This time, he couldn’t help jerking his hips forward. 

Dean took the thrust into his throat in stride. He had a well-controlled gag reflex and as long as he expected it, he didn’t usually have a problem. Sucking hard, he slowly pulled off of Sam’s cock with a wet pop. “You wanna fuck my mouth?” he asked, his hand still stroking and giving Sam’s cock a twist near the base.

“Oh God.” Sam’s gaze locked with Dean’s, the idea gripping him, making him want. His breaths were labored, in sync with Dean’s hand still stroking him. “Yeah, I want that,” he answered, getting more wound up as their gazes clashed and the seconds ticked by. 

Walking on his knees, Dean slowly shifted them, until his knees were on an extra thick burgundy throw rug. Spreading his knees a little to help himself brace, he grasped one of Sam’s hands and put it on his own head. “All yours,” he said, stretching his jaw once before sucking Sam’s tip into his mouth once again. The rest was up to Sam.

“Fuck…” He didn’t curse a lot, but Dean seemed to have a knack for making him lose control. Engulfed by the heat of Dean’s mouth, his first instinct was to close his eyes. But the need to watch, to see Dean take him down his throat was so much stronger. His fingers curled into Dean’s hair as he started to thrust, slowly at first, enjoying the heat building low in his gut. He didn’t tell Dean he looked beautiful like this, on his knees, letting Sam manhandle him, letting him fuck his mouth. But it was there in his eyes, eyes that never left Dean’s face.

The heat, the ache in his cock soon became almost unbearable. He stroked Dean’s face, his breath coming out in broken exhales, his eyes communicating his need. Then he was fucking Dean’s mouth, groaning as his tip brushed the back of Dean’s throat. “Fuck… fu…” He was cursing again. He’d expected to have to stop, to pull back, but Dean was taking it, all of him, and that was a rare and beautiful sight. He sped up, bringing himself all the way to the edge, before pulling out of Dean’s mouth. His cock was wet and dripping, still very much at attention. “Want you in my bed,” he whispered, voice raw with need. He put his hand out.

Dean took Sam’s hand, but pulled Sam a little closer, not getting to his feet yet. “Been a long time since I took it up the ass. You want satisfaction, you ought to finish in my mouth, cause you’ll be stretching me out for an hour if that’s what you’re after. I don’t usually bottom except for blow jobs.” He wasn’t saying ‘no’ to Sam, but there was no way in hell Sam’s sizeable cock was going up his ass without a lot of stretching and lube. Mostly because there was no way in hell he wanted to be walking funny the next day.

Sam gave a nod, then leaned down and kissed Dean. He didn’t stop until he was completely out of breath. Then he gave Dean time to take a few breaths before cupping the back of his head. Stroking himself twice, he pushed his tip inside Dean’s mouth. Then it was like he’d never pulled out. He fucked Dean’s mouth, faster and harder. His balls tightened, ached, as he rode on the edge for as long as he could, before shouting, “Dean!” He’d pulled part way out, but not fast enough. He was coming hard in Dean’s mouth.

Dean swallowed quickly, kicking himself for not asking the all-important question which he should have asked at the get go--to see Sam’s blood test. What was done was done. Course with the precum that had been dripping from Sam’s dick, it didn’t matter, so he was going to enjoy this and make sure Sam enjoyed it. He sucked, his cheeks hollowing as he worked Sam, milking him, his hand going up to squeeze Sam’s balls, making sure he got every last bit of pleasure out of Sam that he could give him. They were both covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Dean pulled off and pushed himself to his feet, pulling Sam into a kiss, sweeping his tongue around the man’s mouth. Damn, Sam was a good kisser, even out of breath and fucked dry, he could still kiss. Finally letting them both catch their breath, he asked, “So was I as good as you’ve imagined? Or do I need to work on my finesse?” 

Arms still around Dean, Sam cocked his head to the side and looked at Dean. “You play a mean game of pool. Know how to handle that stick just right.” He grinned and started to walk backwards, his pants a slight hindrance as he took Dean with him towards the bedroom. He wasn’t about to waste a precious moment with Dean. He’d let Dean drive. All he wanted was for both of them to be satisfied.

* 

As Dean got dressed, Sam quickly whipped up a couple of omelets and made some coffee. He was shirtless, but had a pair of sweatpants on.

When Dean walked in, Sam grinned. “I know you missed dinner, and I heard your stomach growl. I don’t mind if you gulp it down, or I can put it in a sandwich for you if you need to run,” he offered, knowing Dean would need to relieve the babysitter.

“I had a late lunch yesterday,” Dean said, shrugging. “Course, I think we burned an entire week’s worth of food off us last night.” Glancing at the time, he saw he’d slept in a lot later than usual. Keira would start worrying soon if he didn’t call her. He was reluctant to end the hours long get together-date-whatever it was with Sam, but since he wasn’t out of town, he shouldn’t take advantage of his babysitter. Still, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt he supposed. “I can stay for breakfast,” he said. “Got bacon?” 

“Absolutely. Help yourself to some coffee,” Sam said nodding toward the pot. As Dean moved around the kitchen, getting his drink, Sam suddenly wished he wasn’t in some motel room. That he’d found a house. This made it seem a little… yeah, that was a stupid thought. Who cared where they were. “Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t get the place right across the street from you,” he said with a soft laugh. 

“I’d be over to borrow some sugar on a regular basis,” Dean said, giving Sam a lusty look before he began to laugh as well. “Yeah, probably is a good thing. Might get awkward, knocking on your door at all hours.” Pouring two cups of coffee, he brought Sam over a mug and set it on the counter beside him. “You had any luck finding a house?” he asked curiously. “The house is still for sale and I think the Squirt would approve of it now. No more scary lady from what I hear.” Yeah, no more scary lady cause he’d fried the ghost-bitch’s ass at the first opportunity. She was most definitely toast.

Sam’s brow quirked. “No, not yet. You, ah, think I should take another look at it?” 

“If you’re asking if I’d mind if you moved across from me, no, I wouldn’t. Keira would love it, I’m certain. If you like the house, then yeah, take another look. The neighborhood’s decent enough, but there are better neighborhoods in the area, and I wouldn’t blame you for looking at them.” He couldn’t help wishing he could afford to live in one of those better neighborhoods himself, but it wasn’t like he worried about Keira where they lived now, and that’s what counted.

Giving a nod, Sam slid the omelets onto plates and dropped two slices of bacon on his plate, giving Dean about six. He’d seen how well the guy ate. Bringing them to the small table, he motioned for Dean to join him. “I saw a great place in Rolling Hills. Really nice, but it’s a fixer upper. I’d have to have you on speed dial.” He laughed. “As you know, plumbing isn’t my forte.”

His lips pulling into a smirk, Dean said. “Oh, I think you _already_ have my number. Speed dial is fine with me. And not a damned thing wrong with your plumbing.” He scooped up the first slice of bacon and crunched on it with an appreciative sound as he gave Sam a wink.

Blushing slightly, Sam glanced away with a shake of his head and a huffed laugh. “Alright, well, maybe I can take you to see the place. You can tell me if it’s worth it. I mean, I don’t want to get a money pit. You know?”

“I would be happy to go with you to look at the house. But I can’t make any promises I’ll catch everything. I can give you my best guestimate, okay? Keira would be pissed at me, though, if I messed anything up for her favorite teacher.” After taking a bite of the omelets, Dean gave a solid sound of satisfaction. “You’re a good cook by the way. My eggs never come out this good, I swear.” 

Sam gave a solemn nod. He didn’t expect Dean to do a thorough inspection, it wasn’t the man’s job. “Way I hear it, you’re great at desserts. Ice cream with syrup,” he scrunched up his nose. “I like your _other_ desserts better.” Picking up his fork, he ate, though the pieces he put in his mouth were decidedly smaller than Dean’s. “But if it’s cooking lessons you’re after, I’m your guy. So, about the Christmas pageant. Keira has a solo. It’s just one singing line, really. But I told her she can either sing or ring the bells in place of the words. I don’t want to stress her out, but I think she can do it.”

“I definitely wouldn’t hold my breath about her singing the words. And I just hope she doesn’t ditch the bells and hide when her solo comes up. I’ll be happy if she just stands there and gives the bells a single shake.” He just wanted Keira to find herself again, be confident again. He sure as hell wished she could forget the terrible things she’d seen. He blew out a breath. Yeah, might as well wish for a million bucks while he was at it, not that money would help his girl. Giving Sam a small smile, he nodded. “Thanks for not pressuring her too much and giving her options, and hell, even giving her a solo. How’d she react when you told her?”

“Well, I didn’t single her out. Every kid has a tiny solo part. I just told her she could use her voice or her bells. In practice, she’s ringing the bells. But when I saw her out on the playground at recess, she came up to me.” Sam smiled. “I had to practically get on my knees because she wanted to whisper in my ear. She said she would try.”

“You know, I don’t think she talks to anyone as much as she talks to you,” Dean said grinning back at him. He spent lots of time bending over to let Keira whisper in his ear when they were in public. “I sure would like to be a fly on the wall when she’s with her first grader friend and see if she talks to her. I was ecstatic when she started giggling again. It was like I was walking on the moon or something.”

“It’ll come.” Sam was silent for a moment. “I asked you once what happened to her. You said she lost her family. Did she see something? Is that why…” 

“Her family was killed and she saw it all go down,” Dean said quietly. “She was hurt, too. She gets a little antsy if someone grabs her left arm. It was fractured. She’s come a long way in a pretty short time, really. I guess I’m just a selfish bastard and want everything now, you know?” 

“It’s not selfish to want that for someone else,” Sam gently corrected. He played with the food on his plate. “It wasn’t an accident, was it? Her family?”

“Why do you say that?” Dean asked, wiping out more of his bacon.

“Just a question. Seems like she went through some sort of trauma, and you mentioned her fear of getting her arm grabbed.” Sam raised a hand up. “Don’t have to talk about it. But for the record, I was asking as a friend, not a teacher.”

Dean ate the last of the omelets as he considered what to say. He finally gave a nod. “Her family was murdered. She almost was, too. So yeah, a lot of trauma about that. She’d been hiding with her mom but when she saw her dad killed, she screamed. Bastard found her and her mom because of it. That’s why she doesn’t like to make loud noises or talk. That’s what got her mom killed and she blames herself.”

“Shit.” Sam took a breath. “Poor little thing. Did they catch him?” 

“He won’t be hurting anyone again,” Dean said, nodding firmly. He’d salted and burned that bastard’s bones and then did it again to the ashes, just because.

“I see.” Sam licked his lips. He was just seeing things he wanted to. It had to be that. Dean wasn’t his superhero, Matt. And Keira, she wasn’t in the position Sam had been in when Matt rescued him. Just because Dean wasn’t more forthcoming, or didn’t mention cops, didn’t mean he was lying. What would he gain from lying anyway? It made no sense. Shaking off his absurd thoughts, Sam got up and brought more coffee. “Warm up?” he asked.

Sort of relieved that seemed to satisfy Sam, Dean gave a nod and held up his cup. Course if Sam really dug, he might be able to find something about the murders and the fact there were three other families murdered before Keira’s.

Pushing himself to his feet after his cup was full, he looked around at the many silly toys and Knick knacks on the shelf. He grinned and picked up the Happy Meal car. “The batmobile! I always loved Batman. He’s the best freaking superhero ever.” He noted there wasn’t any dust on the car-- well Sam was a better housekeeper than him, that was for certain-- but he caught sight of a mark on the bottom of the car and turned it over. His eyes grew wide at what he saw.

“That’s my nostalgia cabinet… hey, don’t drop my Matt-mobile, it’s kinda irreplaceable.” A strange ache bloomed in Sam’s heart. There was something sad about seeing Matt’s spitting image holding the toy. It had gotten Sam through not only that horrible day, but it acted as a talisman against evil for a long time after. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_.

Dean’s gaze slid to Sam. “Ah, Matt-mobile? This the same Matt you mistook me for at the grocery?” he asked.

“Just put it down?” Sam tried to smile.

Dean’s eyes squinted and he looked at the bottom of the car a moment longer before turning it towards Sam. “Let me guess. Matt… Osbourne?” he asked. Seeing the surprise in Sam’s eyes, he rotated the car 180 degrees. “That’s actually a ‘DW’ not an ‘MO’ on the bottom of the car. You know, for Dean Winchester.” He gave a small huff. “Hi, Sam from Colorado, rescued from a wendigo cave. Right?”

Sam swallowed and gave a nod. “It _is_ you.” He let out a breath. “I thought I was going crazy. You weren’t lying? You didn’t remember me?” he asked. Course it was a letdown to know a moment in his life that meant the world to him, and of course his first crush, didn’t remember him. At least not until he saw the toy he’d given Sam so long ago. “And the house across from yours, there was real evil there?” Things fell firmly into place. And Keira’s trauma couldn’t be handled by cops, that’s why Dean hadn’t mentioned them.

“Course I remember you. Now that I know who you are. But, Dude, I’ve had dozens of fake names. If you’d said the last name, it might have clicked.” He shrugged and rocked his head back and forth. “I, uh, I tend to use band member names of classic bands. But Matthew is my middle name and I was only sixteen. I was still learning about fake i.d.s and stuff. Just calling me Matt didn’t ring a bell and hello, you were what, twelve and like not even five foot tall, Mr. Jolly Green.” Dean said. “And I do not give away a treasured Batman toy that I’ve put my initials on to just _anyone._ Not even to just any kid even if he’s been almost eaten by a wendigo. Because, you know, Batman.” He spread his hands and smiled at the car, then put it back on the shelf. “As for the house across the street, it had a ghost, and the bitch has been salted and burned. Should be safe there now.”

Sam didn’t doubt him. He couldn’t. Not when he knew that both Dean and Keira had a thing for Batman. He gave a laugh. “I guess I’ve put on a couple inches, vertically. You haven’t changed much. Still hot.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I just slept with my childhood hero, and neither of us knew who the other was. Great. I can’t say any of the ‘meet up with you later’ scenarios I dreamt up as a kid went like that.” 

“Dad always said you had a crush on me. I just chalked your bit of googly-eyed looks to me rescuing you,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. “Well, I hope I lived up to your hero worshiping twelve-year-old crush imaginings. You were a good-looking kid, but I never dreamed you’d turn out to be the hot as hell guy I just spent the night with.”

“In no version of my imaginings did you ever catch me with a kid clinging to my legs, or the plumbing attacking me, or, oh yeah, glitter bombed by paint, I can promise you that,” Sam said with a wince. “I was supposed to, you know, rescue you back. Sneak into your hospital bed and… yeah, enough of that.” He waved a hand in the air. “Mystery solved, and I’m dating a hero. I didn’t mean dating, I meant…ah ... damn, where is a good pipe bursting when you need one?” he stuttered.

Dean couldn’t help it and burst into laughter. “And I never pictured meeting you as a single dad. As for dating? I’m cool with dating the music teacher. He cooks, can play pool and darts, knows all about my past, and my daughter adores him. Sounds like a pretty good start there, you know.” He pulled Sam into his arms and looked up into his eyes. “And yeah, this whole taller than me crap? Now that kinda sucks.” He pressed his lips lightly to Sam’s once, then twice. “Okay. So, show me how you always wanted to kiss Matt, your hero, after you saved him.”

Sam brushed his hand over Dean’s ass. “I was going to carry you to safety and kiss you, you know, like you carried me to the car? You ready to be carried? _Matt?_ ”

Dean grinned. “So that’s why you needed to grow up to be so big and strong. Carry away, Sammy, my hero.”

“Seriously?” Dean didn’t have to ask twice. Sam swept him up into his arms, raising Dean up so high that when their lips met, Dean was above him. As he kissed Dean, he turned around in place, so that by the time he’d set Dean down, he’d gotten the ‘movie kiss’ he’d imagined so hard. “Now that was worth the wait, and all wishing stars in the sky,” he said, grinning so hard, his dimples appeared. 

“Now those are the most perfect dimples I’ve ever seen,” Dean said, pulling Sam into a kiss, laying him back in his arms and striving to make it the most breath-taking kiss he had ever tried to give. If Sammy wanted the classic hero stuff between them, Dean would do his best.

He finally set Sam back on his feet and brushed a final light kiss over Sam’s lips “That was Matt, giving his Sammy a proper heroic kiss when he rescued him from the wendigo. So you can roll that back into some of your daydreams. But your hero, unfortunately, has to disappear to save his babysitter from his daughter, who is probably beginning to get worried that I haven’t called.”

Sam tingled from his lips clear down to his toes, even after Dean released him. “Yeah,” he audibly exhaled. “My super-hot hero. You’d better go, before I don’t let you,” he added, finding it very hard to keep his hands off Dean. “I’ll, uh, see you at school.” 

“Maybe sooner,” Dean said, winking, setting his dirty dishes in the sink, and checking his pockets to make certain he had everything. “Feel free to text me. Or send me pictures-- but Keira plays with the phone sometimes, so unfortunately, keep it clean.” He stood there a moment then blew out a breath. “Okay, this is me leaving, imagining a dozen more kisses from you.”

“Ok, this is me not begging you to stay.” Sam too let out a breath. “Ok, on three,” he chuckled, knowing they were being ridiculous. “One, two…” and his hero disappeared out the door, closing it firmly behind him. “Why couldn’t I have been older? Why couldn’t we have had internet back then,” he grumbled, wondering if there was any scenario in which Dean would have kept in touch with him all those years ago. 

***

Dean couldn’t help the whistling. He had been finding himself doing that a whole lot lately. Since he and Sam had started seeing each other. It was hard to kind of keep it low key, and harder to keep from telling everyone, because he was really beginning to think he wanted to see where this went. He was so damned glad he hadn’t met adult Sam before Keira had come into his life and he’d settled down. Without a doubt, he would have found a way to screw things up between them, or made this thing a few one-night stands, and then sayonara, baby. And right now, he did not want to be thinking ‘sayonara’ anytime soon.

He pulled the car up in the line of dozens of cars there to pick up students. He watched for Keira while smiling and nodding at some of the other parents-- mostly mothers-- picking up their kids. He wished he had time to visit Sam right now, but they both had real jobs to tend to and so they would just have to wait until tonight when they went to look at that house Sam was considering buying.

He waved when he saw Keira dashing towards the car, a paper fluttering in her hand and her blue and pink backpack bouncing on her back. He smiled at her when she climbed into the car, and he handed her her favorite stuffed unicorn. “So, was school good today? Did you do anything fun?” he asked as he buckled her in and then put the car into gear. 

Hugging the stuffed animal, she gave a shrug. Then she turned her head and looked out the window at some of the other kids who were getting picked up. She sucked in her breath and quickly ducked down, hiding.

“Hey, c’mon. No hiding. Yeah, we’re working on you feeling okay without Francis, there, but it’s after school. It’s okay to have Francis with you and you don’t have to hide him from anyone. Besides, Francis might like to see some of the other kids.” Dean wasn’t sure if maybe the ones she was hiding from were bullying her or not. If they were, he’d want to threaten to rip their lungs out. Maybe he better have a meeting with the school counselor again next week, just to check. 

She slowly sat back up, but kept her toy close and below the window. “That’s Jamie’s mom,” she said, her eyes shifting to her dad. “Jaime said she wants to date you. Are you going to?”

Dean’s gaze glanced over to the long-legged blonde with an impressive set of kahunas. “Nah. I’m sure she’s nice enough, but,” Dean took a deep breath. It couldn’t be that hard to tell Keira he was dating her music teacher, right? “I’m kinda interested in, ah, someone else right now.”

Her head lifted. “Not Elsa’s mommy.” Under her breath, she started to chant, “ _please, please, please._ ”

“Elsa’s mom? You don’t like Elsa. Course not. I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t date Mindy’s mom either. Promise.” Dean gave a firm nod and patted her leg.

“What about Mrs. Gritter?”

Dean made a face. “Squirt, she’s like thirty years older than me. I don’t think she’s my type. Do you think I should date her?”

Keira shook her head ‘no.’ “How about Mr. C?” She bit her lip.

Dean caught his breath. “Mr. C? Well, yeah, I like Mr. C a lot. And I might, ah, kind of, you know, be dating him a little.” He glanced at his daughter. “You okay with that? You know, sometimes adults get funny about seeing two guys or two girls together, holding hands and kissing. So some people might not like me dating him and might say bad things.”

“You are?!” She sat up straight and stared at him.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, Sam and I have gone out a couple times now. I like him. He likes me. So I was going to tell you soon. I just wasn’t sure how you would feel about it. You okay with it?” he asked his daughter, feeling sudden butterflies in his gut. She loved Mr. C-- Sam. So she would be okay with them dating… right? He gripped the wheel a little tighter.

She put her hand on his knee, patting it. “I saw him first, but he’s old like you, so it’s okay.” She started to smile, and then giggled. “Don’t tell him.” 

Dean looked at his daughter. “Do you have a crush on him? You sure it’s okay?” he asked, teasing just a little. Because after all, Sam had had a crush on him all these years.

“Noooo,” she answered shaking her head. “I like when he throws me up and catches.”

“Okay. Then I guess I’ll keep dating him for a while and see how it goes.” It amazed him how, when it came to one particular music teacher, his little girl would suddenly use full sentences. That told him volumes about how safe she felt around Sam. And that made him even more sure the relationship was worth pursuing and giving a chance.

*

It was pageant night at last. Sam didn’t feel ready, but then he always felt like he needed a few more days of practice. It was going to be fine, so he made sure the kids knew he had confidence in them.

The really young kids were on the stage first. In the meantime, parents were in and out of his class. The children were dressed in their best clothing, many of them sporting new red dresses or clip on ties. Sam had snacks and juice on the tables since it was dinnertime. 

“Okay kids, time to line up by the door. Don’t forget to take your instruments,” he said, helping a child out of her chair. “Parents, I’ll take it from here. We’ll see you in the auditorium.”

He saw Dean give Keira a kiss. As Dean passed him, Sam said, “You look like a nervous wreck. She’s going to be fine. Like we all practiced at your house. Worse comes to worst, I’ll sing the line.” 

“Okay Rudolph, I’ll hold you to that,” Dean said, meeting Sam’s gaze and tapping his finger by his own nose. Sam still had the glowing nose on that he used to help keep the kids focused when he was getting everyone lined up. And if he knew Sam, Sam would walk right out on stage with it still on his face. Of course, that would have been really cute, but he would hear about it for not saying something.

“Crap,” Sam cursed under his breath and snatched the nose off. “I don’t think my kids were going to warn me about this, were you?” he asked out loud, one hand on his hip as he stared at the kids lining up. That produced a fit of giggles and ‘nos’ from the kids. ‘Thanks’ he mouthed, then shooed Dean out with the other parents.

“Alright, get in line in the right order. Sonia, take off your coat. Okay, look at me.” He reviewed the signs he would give to let them know they needed to sing louder, or slower. When to turn, and when to play their instruments. When he was done, he walked ahead of the class, with a parent volunteer taking the rear of the line to make sure all the students got to the auditorium.

*

When his class was announced, Sam motioned for the kids to walk. He took the stage with them, making sure they stood in their places in three rows on the risers. Giving them a nod, he walked down the stairs and moved to stand in the orchestra pit in front of them.

The pianist started to play. With every child’s eyes on him, Sam lifted one finger, then two, then three, and the kids started to sing jingle bells. He swung his arms back and forth, giving them the tempo, soundlessly singing with them. Pointing at the group of kids whose turn it was to ring the bells, then the next group, and the next.

Although he was focused on the entire class, he kept a close eye on Keira. He couldn’t hear her voice, but she was mouthing the words and jingling the bells in her hands right on time. Even if she didn’t get her line out, she was doing well.

He lifted his hands as they got close to the finale, and their voices rose. If he were unbiased, he’d admit at this point they were more shouting at the audience than singing. When he sharply brought his hands down, they ended the song right on cue, making him smile and wink at them.

The audience started to clap, and people called out the names of their kids. Some of the kids were getting restless. Keira was shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The smile she’d worn earlier when they were singing was gone. Sam knew she was nervous.

*

Dean held up the camera he had rented, one of these fancy digital cameras, He found a camera place that would rent him it for the night and download all the video onto a thumb drive. His phone was decent, but he really wanted this to be good video, just in case everything went right.

He had recorded the first song and gave an ear-piercing whistle and calling out, “Way to go, Keira! Awesome, Squirt!” But the song was over, and the next song was about to begin, and he knew that look he saw on Keira’s face. The one that said she was about to dive off the risers and go hide in the bathroom.

Dean jostled the camera as he quickly dug into her backpack which he’d brought along. He pulled out Francis the Unicorn and waved him around, then set the animal on his head. Tough if it was in another camera’s way. Keira needed it. He called out as “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer” started on the piano and the kids got ready to sing. “C’mon Squirt, you got this. I swear, you got this. I’m right here and it’s all good. And Francis needs you to do this. You can do this!”

Sam could hear Dean’s words of encouragement and hoped Keira heard them, too. She looked like she was ready to bolt. He gave her a smile and gestured, putting his hand on his heart and mouthing ‘calm.’ Then he was lifting his fingers one at a time, and when he reached three, the kids started to sing.

_Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer._

Sam pointed at one of the children who sang solo.

_Reindeer_

While the other kids put their hands on their heads and waved their fingers like they were antlers, Keira barely moved her hands up.

As the kids sang the next few lines, Sam started to make all the gestures that they were supposed to make, so those who forgot the sequence could follow him. He slapped his hand in front of his mouth in an exaggerated way and threw back his head like he was laughing. Then he put his thumb in his ears and waggled his fingers when they sang about Rudolph being called names. He was practically willing one little girl into action. 

Finally, Keira started to make the gestures she’d practiced and knew well. 

*

Dean couldn’t help his big smile and when he saw Keira glance at him, and he gave her a thumbs up. “Yeah, Keira! Wahoo!” He noticed that some of the other parents were now calling out encouragements to their own kids who needed it. Part of this was teaching the kids not to be afraid of being in public and performing, and he really hoped Keira could see this to be a good thing, a fun thing. 

*

One by one, his kids nailed their solos. Ok, nailed might be exaggerating, but they got through them. Some whispered their lines. Some squeaked them. Some shouted them out like they were yelling at someone across the playground. As they neared Keira’s turn, Sam got nervous. For her. For Dean. He put his hand on his chest again, right before it was her turn.

 _As they shouted out with glee_ the kids sang.

Sam pointed at Keira and held his breath.

A deep baritone voice rang out from behind him, and was joined by Keir’s high pitched voice.

“With glee!”

Sam wildly moved his hands as they got into the finale, and everyone, including the audience shouted, “History!”

The audience clapped. Sam clapped. And parents stood up to get better pictures of their kids. 

* * *

As Sam walked down the grocery store aisle, he checked his phone. He knew Dean and Keira were on their way to Uncle Bobby’s place. Given the storms, he was waiting to get a text to let him know they’d arrived safely. Telling himself that Dean had driven around the country scores of times and knew what he was doing, Sam tried to quit worrying. He had a Christmas Eve meal to prepare, and lots of missing ingredients to worry about before the store closed.

He plucked a can of cranberry sauce off the shelf. Next year, it might be different. He might get an invite to Bobby’s, if that was the Winchester family tradition. But this year, he’d do what he always did. Have a nice meal. Do his duty and call his folks, then watch some incredibly saccharine Christmas movies. That was the plan.

*

Dean cursed under his breath repeatedly. The snow was getting worse. They’d been held up earlier because of a big accident. It didn’t look like anyone had been hurt, just a pile-up, thankfully, but they had sat in non-moving traffic for nearly three hours. It was only midday but with the snow, they weren’t making good time.

When his cell went off, he tapped the answer button on his Bluetooth headset. “Talk to me.”

“Dean, how close are you?” Bobby asked, a little worry in his voice.

“There was a big accident an hour or so out of town,” Dean said. “Best guess? Eight hours? Maybe more if this snow gets any worse.”

“What?!” Bobby said. “Dean, the storm _has_ gotten worse. Don’t be an idjet. If you’re still that far out, you need to turn around. The freeways are getting shut down around here.”

Blowing out a breath, he glanced over at his daughter. “Yeah, Okay.”

He took the next off ramp he could find and filled the tank, picking up a few fresh snacks and a cup of coffee. He called Sam.

“You made it, thank God,” Sam said, holding the phone to his ear and pushing his cart along. 

“Ah, no. We haven’t. Three-hour delay outside Carlisle. Bobby called and said the freeways are getting shut down near him and the storm is getting worse. I’m getting gas and turning around and headed back home. Hopefully, I can still pick up something at a restaurant or something. Otherwise it’s beans and hotdogs for Christmas dinner. Not that Keira will probably care. That’s one of her favorite meals.” Dean couldn’t help the laugh. It was true, but he hated not giving her a proper Christmas dinner.

“I’m at the grocery store. You two, would you like to come over?” Sam held his breath, hoping he hadn’t overstepped. He had to keep reminding himself that even if he’d dreamt of Dean for a lifetime, they’d actually only known each other for a short while.

“Yeah?” Dean said, surprised but relieved. “That would be awesome. Keira’s going to be disappointed we can’t make it to Uncle Bobby’s, but having a nice dinner at your place? That’ll make her real happy. Thanks, Sam. I owe you.”

“Are you kidding? I’d like nothing better than to spend Christmas Eve with you guys. Drive safe.” Grinning, Sam slipped his phone into his pocket and headed back to the first aisle.

* * *

Dean pulled back into town and Keira looked at her father curiously. “No Uncle Bobby?” she asked quietly.

“No kiddo. The roads were just getting too bad. We’re going to have Christmas Eve with Mr. C. That okay with you?”

“Mr. C?” She bit her lip.

“What’s wrong, Keira? I thought you’d like that. I mean, I know he’s no Uncle Bobby, and there’s no Rumsfeld there. Well, we can go home, instead. That’s okay,” he said, reaching over and patting her leg. Hotdogs and beans for dinner after all, he guessed. He’d just tell Sam Keira wasn’t up to it. 

“No chimney,” she said, head dropping down. “No Santa.”

“Wha--?” Dean bit back a relieved laugh. “There are lots and lots of kids who don’t have chimneys for Santa. He can make his own. Don’t you worry. Santa will still be able to find you. I promise.” He ran a finger over his chest, in a criss cross “x.”

“Otay. Francis, too,” she said, bending over to pick up the unicorn.

“Francis…?” Dean said. “Uh, yeah, you bet. I’m sure Santa will have something for Francis.” Of course Keira would expect Santa to bring something for her faithful companion. Hopefully Sam had something that would work as a gift for a stuffed animal because Keira would know if Dean used one of her ribbons or something and wrapped it. 

Leaning back, Keira started to half-hum, half-sing the song her class had sung for the Christmas show.

Smiling at his daughter, Dean started to hum along with her the rest of the way to Sam’s motel room. 

*

Hearing the roar of the Impala’s engine, Sam went out to greet them in the parking lot. Standing near the car as Dean parked, he cupped his hands over his mouth and blew hot air. In his excitement, he’d forgotten to get a jacket.

“Dude,” Dean said as he got out of the car, “thanks so damned much for this. And you’re a bad example to my daughter. Where’s your coat?” he asked, slapping Sam on the back. Before he had a chance to take Keira’s hand, she was already wrapped around Sam’s leg. “And I’m again chopped liver.”

Laughing, Sam lifted her up onto his shoulder. “What do you two think about having a pajama party?” he asked, a twinkle in his eyes. 

“You mean spend the night?” Dean asked. He suddenly realized he wasn’t sure how much breakfast stuff he had at home because he had planned to stay at Bobby’s for close to a week. “Uh, yeah, I’d be up for it. What do you think, Keira? Wanna spend the night here with Mister C?”

“Living room floor, TV, hot choc--”

“Yes, yes!” Keira shouted, arms up in the air.

Startled, Sam secured her on his shoulder and glanced at Dean. “Well, someone is perky for having been stuck in traffic for hours.”

“Stay up. See Santa make a chimney,” she said.

Dean blew out a breath, the breath misting in the air. “She colored and dozed off here and there. But she hasn’t been able to run off any of her energy, either. She was worried Santa couldn’t find us. I told her lots of kids don’t have chimneys and Santa just makes his own when he needs to. You go on in with her. I’ll grab our stuff out of the car.”

Giving a nod, Sam headed for the walkway. “Let’s get you inside where it is nice and toasty. Are you hungry or did you fill up on chips and cookies?” He’d seen the bags in the car.

“We haven’t eaten anything decent since breakfast!” Dean called after Sam. He grabbed the bags of presents out of the trunk, their overnight duffels, and Francis from the front seat. After locking the car, he hauled everything to Sam’s place. As soon as he walked in, his stomach growled.

“Oh my god, it smells fabulous in here!” Dean exclaimed. 

“I hope it tastes as good as it smells. And that the oven won’t explode, or the plate won’t jump off the table and make a mess, or--”

“It’s okay, Daddy will help you.” Keira giggled.

“No catastrophes today,” Dean said firmly. “We already paid our dues sitting in traffic all morning and driving in the storm. I assume the storm is supposed to hit here in an hour or two? That the reason for the pajama party? Cause we won’t be able to leave because of the storm?” Dean began putting the presents for Keira under the tree.

“That’s as good a reason as any.” Sam grinned. “I figured you’d be here late, and wouldn’t want to drive again.” He hit the play button on the DVR and the TV displayed a Christmas musical. “Dean, beer or wine?”

“Beer is fine. Or iced tea. Or wine. Or water. I’m easy.” He gave Sam a sly look and a smirk. “And the squirt can have milk or water.”

“Iced tea,” she said, looking up at her dad.

Laughing, Sam headed for the kitchenette. A short time later, he’d set their drinks down on the coffee table and had put out some plates with pigs in a blanket, small star shaped grilled cheese sandwiches and a nuts and crackers mix. “Keira, somewhere in the house, there is a hidden elf. I wonder if you can find it before dessert?”

“Hidden elf?” Dean asked curiously. “Why do you have an elf hiding in your place?”

“Elf on shelf,” Keira answered, dashing to the sofa and removing the pillow to start her search.

“Elf on the Shelf,” Sam said, pointing at Keira and giving Dean a grin. 

“Keira,” Dean said, “you be sure to put back anything you move, okay? And if it’s on a shelf, why are you looking in the sofa?” Glancing at Sam, he shook his head. “Haven’t a clue what an elf on a shelf is, but I think you might regret hiding it,” he noted sagely as Keira threw herself into the search.

“Giving her something to do. Did you look under the table?” He gave a chuckle, and looked back at Dean. “We read the book in class. Maybe Keira can read it to us over dessert.” He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t say yes, but it did surprise him that she didn’t shake her head no. “Help yourself. You must be a little tired, and a lot disappointed. Your trip.”

“A little tired,” Dean acknowledged. “This is only my second Christmas with Keira, and I want her to be comfortable with Bobby. He’s not really my uncle, he’s more like a second father. I spent a lot of time at Bobby’s place when my dad was off hunting. Bobby taught my dad a lot about the business.” He gave a shrug and sat down. After taking a long drink of the iced tea, he continued. “We spent last Christmas there, and I try to take her to visit every couple months. I want her to have someone else stable in her life besides just me. Someone else who’s family, you know?”

“Yeah. Absolutely. Can’t say I’m heartbroken you didn’t make it all the way there,” Sam admitted, grabbing his beer. “I’m glad you called.” Dean could have easily just gone home.

“I didn’t go grocery shopping. Not much in the house. Christmas dinner woulda been beans and weiners. I wasn’t really sure I’d make it back to town before the food stores were closed. I was just hoping you didn’t mind us crashing your Christmas, and I hoped I’d given you enough time to pick up food for three. Besides, she likes you the best of most of the adults we know.” Giving a small chuckle, he added, “And I do, too.”

“That’s a little too honest. Good thing I have a thick skin.” Sam huffed, taking a drink. 

Dean spread his hands and said quietly, “My thoughts were on giving her a good Christmas and she adores you. Course if I’d just been thinking with my dick, I still woulda called you first.”

“Like I said, too honest.” Shaking his head, Sam got up. “Let me check on the food. And Keira? You’re getting warmer.” He let his eyes stray to the bookshelf and smiled as he crossed the room to the kitchenette.

Dean gave a huff of his own. He should have just stuck with flirting with Sam and told him that he thought spending Christmas with Sam was even better than Christmas at Bobby’s. Sam was the first person that came to mind that he wanted to spend his Christmas with, and that was true. For a whole lot of reasons. He scrubbed his face and followed Sam into the kitchen.

“Sorry, Sam,” he said. “I wanted to spend Christmas with you, but had already promised Keira and Bobby that’s where we were going. I’ll admit I felt kinda happy when you said last week that you didn’t have any Christmas plans, because I didn’t want to think of you off with a date. I wasn’t sure though if you’d want to make the drive to Bobby’s with me and he doesn’t know yet that I, ah, might swing either way, you know?”

“Dean, no pressure, and no explanation needed,” Sam said. “I was just trying to say you two brightened up my Christmas, that’s all.” He gave a shrug. “So how do you like your roasted potatoes? Crispy?” 

“Crispy is good.” Dean touched Sam’s arm. “Sam, you _saved_ my daughters Christmas. And that means more than you can ever know. Thank you.”

Meeting Dean’s gaze, Sam gave a nod. “Another ten minut--” 

Interrupted by a loud shriek, Sam turned to see Keira on a chair, reaching up and tugging at the elf puppet’s leg, trying to pull it off the top shelf where it had been hidden by books. “Do not drop my Mattmobile,” Sam said, hoping for the best.

“Keira, stop!” Dean said sharply. She froze instantly, sucking in a breath.

Dean hurried to her side. “I know you can do so much by yourself, but sometimes you gotta ask me for help. This is one of those times, Squirt.” He smiled at her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Good job stopping when I told you to stop. You make your dad proud.” Dean lifted her up so she could see the elf and other things on the shelf.

“Okay, Keira, pull that hiding elf out, but be careful,” he encouraged her.

She pulled the long-legged elf into her arms, the bells on its hat jingling. “I win.”

“Yes you do, nice work. Now your unicorn--”

“Francis.”

“Francis,” Sam smiled. “Has a pal.”

Once Dean set her down, Keira headed for the platter and took a mini grilled cheese sandwich. 

Chuckling, Sam nudged Dean. “So what’s her Christmas present. A fish?”

“Hey, Keira! Did you earn your fish?“

She looked up and grinned, nodding.

Dean laughed. “I told her she had to wait until we got back from Bobby’s and we’ll go pick one out. Since we didn’t make Bobby’s, we’ll go out the day after Christmas and get her whatever goldfish or molly or guppy she wants.“

“Congratulations, Keira. I vote for clown fish.” Making a clownish face, just for her, he couldn’t help but be delighted with her laughter. “What about you, Dean. What is your Christmas wish?”

“Wha…? Me?” Lifting his hand to the back of his head and rubbing it, he grinned sheepishly. “Ah, I dunno. Just to have a happy Christmas. Good food, good company, maybe like a fireplace is the only thing missing. So pretty much, what I already got. What about you, Sammy. What’s your wish?”

“I already got mine. Solved the Matt mystery. Good company for dinner and maybe movies. So, yeah, also pretty much what I already got, except … crap, I hope I didn’t burn anything,” he said panicked and opened the oven. Hearing Keira’s laughter, he shook his head. “Not cool, Keira.” Letting out a breath of relief, he started to pull out the plump roasted chicken and perfectly golden potatoes. “No calamities today, yeah, that’s the rest of my Christmas wish. Dean, get the salad from the fridge?”

“I’m on it. Keira, go wash your hands for dinner.” Dean did the same at the kitchen sink, then opened the fridge and pulled out the big bowl of salad already made up. After carrying it to the table, he pulled out a salad dressing and ketchup and butter and set them on the table as well. “Anything else I can do?” he asked Sam.

“Well, there’s cranberry in the fridge, but when you called, I skipped the turkey since I don’t know if Keira likes it. But I think we can have it with the chicken,” Sam said, putting the main dishes on the small table. Then he uncovered a platter of fried green tomatoes and set that on the table, too. “And now for my failsafe,” he said in a low voice, producing a small baking dish from the oven. 

Seeing the mac and cheese, Dean nodded. “Oh, yeah. She’ll definitely have some of that. She’s pretty good about eating most things, though, if she doesn’t recognize it, she’ll only have a little tiny bit until she’s tasted it. I doubt she’ll like the tomatoes though. Probably a little too bitter for her.” He grabbed the cranberry sauce and brought it to the table, then retrieved their glasses of iced tea and grabbed Sam another beer. “Missing anything?” he asked, standing beside his chair.

“Mmm, want some sugar in your iced tea, Keira, or I have lemonade, and ah, wine?” Sam brought the lemonade to the table, and then got the corkscrew. “Plenty of beer, if you prefer.”

“I’ll stick with the iced tea until after dinner,” Dean said. “I’ll have beer or wine when we’re watching the movie.”

“Alright, then dinner is served,” Sam said with a flourish, motioning for his guests to sit.

*

Dinner had gone well. Really well. Keira had spoken more than Sam had ever heard before, and that had her father happy and beaming, which in turn made Sam happy.

They’d put mattresses and sleeping bags on the floor. Watched Christmas shows. And Sam had even been talked into wearing the stupid blinking nose for a short while.

All in all, Sam had the best Christmas he’d had in many years.

Just as he brought a stack of pancakes to the table, he saw Keira squirm away from Dean and get up, out from under the comforter.

“Good morning sleepy head.” He grinned seeing her eye the small Christmas tree and the wrapped presents under it. “Wait till your daddy wakes up. And uh, why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, just as Dean opened his eyes. “Mornin’ sleepyhead number two.”

Keira giggled. “I saw Daddy kissing Wudolph.”

Sam’s eyes widened. One peck on the lips. That’s all he’d given Dean, when Keira wasn’t looking. Or so he’d thought!

* * *

[A few months later]

Dean pulled the car into the driveway of a three-bedroom house. The outside of the house looked pretty nice and it was in a sort of a rich, older neighborhood. The inside of the house was a wreck, mostly from lack of maintenance and not fixing things when they broke. Dean agreed with Sam, it was definitely a fixer upper, but the price was good and nothing seemed unfixable on the inside. He had already helped Sam rip out the carpets and tear out the old linoleum. Sam had cleaned the house and now they were painting the place.

“So this is Mr. C’s new house. We’re going to help him fix up the place. Today we’re painting. The backyard has a swing and some nice big trees in it. Thought you might like to see it and you can help us paint a little, and remind us when it’s time to eat. Think you can do that?” Dean asked his daughter. 

“I’m hungry,” she answered. “Maybe Mr. C has grilled cheese sandwiches.”

Sam opened the front door and waved at the pair just exiting the Impala. “G’Morning!”

“Sammy!” Dean called out, waving to him and taking his daughter’s hand. “Keira was wondering if you’re any good at grilled cheese sandwiches. She’s turning into a bottomless pit. She ate almost as big a breakfast as I did.”

“Sure I can grill one up, with a slice of tomato.” He waggled his brows and came out to greet them. Patting Keira’s head with one hand, he kissed Dean’s cheek. “You two are my crew, and I’m keeping my crew fed and happy,” he said.

Keira raised her stuffed animal up. “Tree. Not two. Don’t forget Francis.”

“You’re right. You _three_ are my crew.”

Keira saw all the paint cans sitting next to a wall and turned to Dean. “Daddy? You’re going to let Mr. C paint?”

Sam made a face. “Not cool, Keira. Not cool.”

Dean tried really hard to keep from bursting into laughter. “Ah, yes. I don’t think I make him quite as nervous as I used to.” He looked at Sam. “I thought I’d help her paint some of that wall. She can get paint on those clothes. But Francis has to watch from a safe distance. From both of you.” He smirked. 

“Just for that, I’m eating _all_ the pie,” Sam said, giving both Dean and Kiera a stern look, before strolling to the open kitchen.

“Oh no, Keira, I think we better go rescue the pie! What do you think? And maybe apologize to Mr. C for teasing him about being clumsy.”

“And _maybe_ we’ll get dessert first.” She squeezed Dean’s hand and started to pull him to the kitchen.

“Sam, it’s a desserts first day!” he said, winking at his daughter.

“Desserts first?” Sam put his hands on his hips, then cracked a smile. “How can I say ‘no’ to my two--my three favorite people in the whole world? Keira, get the ice cream.” He pointed at the drawer at the bottom of the refrigerator. “Dean, paper plates. I’ll warm up the pie. After that, I’m putting you all to work. This place is going to be a home in no time flat. Got it?” 

Dean met Sam’s gaze and a smile spread across his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good with that. I think this place is going to be a perfect home.”

Sam returned the smile. Just having Dean and Keira here, that was all it took to make the place feel like home.


End file.
